Nothing Like the Sun
by silversurf4
Summary: I never seem to tire of turning over the Season 2 finale in my mind and finding different ways it could have gone. This is one of those many facets of the diamond that was "One." To be continued. Crews and Reese throughout.
1. Chapter 1

NOTHING LIKE THE SUN _(for ShannonB)_

Attachment causes suffering.

He tried not to believe, not to think about it, about her, about promise, about hope, about the future he said he didn't believe in.

The look she gave him through the windshield was one part awe, a sprinkling of admiration and a touch of mirth, so tempting that he had to avert his eyes.

He looked skyward into the blinding LA sunshine to burn away his attachment.

By the time he looked back, she'd climbed from the car and walked until she stood under his chin staring at him. Promising developments… he dared think, to believe. Perhaps his smile gave him away, but in all likelihood he'd never know.

Her reaction was nothing like what he expected. He didn't know what he expected, but certainly not this. He could feel her nearness; he could smell her. _Oh, how he'd missed her scent_ ….that mixture of coffee, cherries, chocolate and something spicy and indefinable. He took his time, readying himself to look upon her face, the one he'd missed so much in the past month. He longed for her rich brown eyes and the shape of her lips so permanently pursed in disapproval – of him.

It was then that she slapped him.

His head snapped down, eyes instantly open. His hand travelled of its own accord to his still stinging cheek. His eyes watered, but he did not look away.

Dani did nothing in half measure. She'd hit him hard. Not as hard as Roman, but forcefully enough to get his attention. Her anger had returned with a vengeance. He'd seen it before. But he couldn't understand what he'd done to earn it – this time at least. Then it came to him.

He'd witnessed this kind of fearful rage and what provoked it before. It was love, deep abiding and unfathomable love. Parents reunited with their beloved children, who slapped them first, before clutching them to their breast and crying silent tears. He wondered if that part would come. But it did not.

She fumed, the anger coming off her in waves like the shimmer of heated asphalt.

"Hello Reese," his expression hovered at the edge of a smile, but he restrained himself. "How are you?"

She looked as though she might explode with the force of a nuclear detonation.

"How? How am I?" she asked him in a coarse whisper. This let him know how close to tears she was, how profoundly affected. "I can't believe you can stand there and ask me that. You….you… you just…." She ranted.

Behind her he noted Bodner, lurking and then leaving. _Coward_ he thought, but then he realized Bodner probably yearned for his own reunion of sorts, perhaps without the slapping and shouting.

"Did you miss me?" he pressed his luck and her anger.

Bodner walked faster in the opposite direction, trudging up a trail of dust in the sandy soil.

Charlie wanted to remember every single detail. The verdant hue of the trees, punctuated with spots of yellow and orange; the dust in his eyes, on his skin and in his throat; the darkness of her dress and her look; the rage that shook her and left her speechless. She gaped at his audacity and nerve. Words would not come.

Her small fists clenched and released; clenched and released as she reached for a balance that would not come. Her audible ragged sigh expressed both relief and exasperation. She was so terribly angry. An anger borne of fear, but she seemed unable to give voice to what frightened her.

"He's gone," Crews held her eyes and promised her safety. "He'll never hurt you again." He waited a moment for the words to sink in. "Reese? Roman's gone."

She heard, but she couldn't process, understand or accept his words. "How? How did you? How are you here? How are you not dead?" her words came tumbling out. Still angry, but questioning and seeking answer beyond her simple questions, looking for something she couldn't lay name to.

Though he trusted her, it was a little too soon to lay a murder confession at her feet. Reese would feel responsible and the blame for Roman's death was not hers; so he hedged, using humor as a tool, to get them around the point of how he'd escaped.

"Guess it's just not my time yet," he joked. Lying to her seemed wrong, made him feel guiltier than murder. He disconnected from the penetrating gaze of her deeply concerned coffee colored eyes to avoid the shame he felt.

"Don't you do that," she barked. "Come back here," she made him return to her.

He really was powerless when it came to her. He had come to that simple realization in the past few days. His emotions built speed and power like a runaway train going downhill. It reached a pace he couldn't control and set them on a collision course he couldn't forestall. But he stilled and gave her his eyes, his attention and didn't bother to hide his concern, his longing or his desire.

He casually touched her face as he brushed an errant hair from it. "I'm here," he promised, "I'm not going anywhere."

Now that she had him, she balked like a shy filly at her first fence. Something in the honesty and seriousness of his gaze frightened her more than a week in a dark basement under a hood. But Dani needed to know – in the way people need to know things. Crews had warned her before about learning thing you couldn't un-know and cautioned her not to look too hard. _Were they there again? Was that now?_

Her voice sounded small, even to herself as she quietly asked him a very serious question, perhaps the most serious question of their partnership. "Why'd you do that, Crews? Why'd you get in that SUV….Bodner said without a plan to get away?"

He paused a very long moment and looked deeply into her eyes. She did not look away, but her expression was neutral and impossible to read.

"You know why," his voice was low and unintentionally seductive. She did that to him and he was past caring if she knew. Ten minutes from now, the cavalry would come charging in here. Captain Kevin Tidwell on his white charger with a sea of soldiers in serge would descend upon them and sweep her away, but now….in this moment, she was his.

He tucked her errant strand of unruly hair behind her ear and his thumb grazed her cheek. She looked paler than he recalled, but she remained warm and her cheek was smooth against the pad of his thumb. Her eyes fluttered and she leaned into his caress, just a fraction of a second, but long enough that he noticed.

Her eyes slipped closed and he couldn't help himself. He leaned in and kissed her. It should have been a light brush of his lips on her forehead, comforting, collegial, filial, but it wasn't. His lips found purchase right where he wanted them to be, squarely on hers. She exhaled his name against his lips. It may have been a warning, but he was past caring.

It would have been fine if she'd have just let him kiss her; not great, but okay. From that they could have recovered. But she didn't just let him kiss her; she kissed him back.

Her lips parted and his mouth slanted across hers deepening their contact. His tongue reached for hers and they tangled. Her hands rode up his chest, under his coat. She had to feel the hammering of his heart beneath the thin pale blue shirt. It went on for just long enough for him to know it wasn't a fantasy. Then she pushed him away, hard.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What the hell?"

He stood there staring like a fool for a few moments before he recovered. But when he did recover, it was quickly and completely. He slammed his defenses into place and his walls went up.

"Turns out I missed you," he joked, "more than I'd thought." When he finished his eyes were dark and his countenance mildly threatening. She'd hurt him more with her refusal than her hand.

"You," she was clenching her fists again. "You can't kiss me. Crews! You can't kiss me."

"I just did," he chuckled and took a step towards her. He was a bit angry himself at the moment. She did things to him. "And I didn't just kiss you, honey," he grinned broadly, "you kissed me back."

She pulled her arm back to slap him again, but he stopped her. She was right, he really did have a mean streak, but it was earned.

"Any more slapping counts as foreplay," he teased.

She flushed crimson in embarrassment or anger; he'd never know which as right on cue, the sirens, which seconds before could not be heard, came closer.

They seemed to arrive in an instant, pushing out the roaring in his ears. He stepped back, a proper distance, the distance of a partner, not the close quarters of a lover. It was then he noticed it, she wasn't only angry, she was blushing.

She was affected by their closeness. It wasn't a simple kiss. Something profound had shifted, gravity failed, physics didn't seem to apply. She was off balance, far more from this than from being held captive for a week by a maniac. She raised her hand to her face and seemed to wonder " _what have I done?"_ without giving voice to it.

"Reese," he entreated gently, taking a step in her direction. "I…." he wanted to explain something he couldn't even begin to.

"Don't you fucking touch me," she warned through clenched teeth.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Tidwell, as predicted, was in the first wave of cars to reach them. He didn't wait for the cruiser to roll to a stop before he was out the door and had Dani wrapped in a tight bear hug. Crews watched as his partner who was generally loathe to allow anyone to even know she was dating their Captain, melted into the familiar arms of her lover. Charlie felt deflated, but unable to look away.

It was surreal. Moments ago, he had everything he wanted and now it seemed so far away. He cocked his head to the side and watched them. Dani's back was to him, but he made eye contact with Tidwell who mouthed "thank you, thank you, thank you" to him over Reese's shoulder.

Even though it was very warm, Tidwell shed his jacket and draped it over her. From touching her moments ago, Crews knew she wasn't cold in the least. He could see her shaking her head, first lightly, then rather strongly. The medics were waved away by the ever-watchful Tidwell, as he put Reese into an unmarked Crown Victoria. Tidwell shut the door and then his eyes began to search for Crews.

As the two men approached one another and it wasn't immediately apparent what things had changed in the time since they'd last spoken. But it had.

"Crews," Tidwell reached out to the tall red haired man with voice as he extended his hand. "I can't thank you enough," he pumped Charlie's hand vigorously, while shaking it far longer than was necessary. He seemed to think that insufficient and instead wrapped him in a big hug. "You brought her back to me," he said weakly. He laughed but seemed on the edge of tears. "Thank you."

Charlie was stiff and did not return the affection. He had not brought Reese back – for Tidwell. He returned her to their world, but what her choice may be after their kiss was not at all certain. Charlie didn't like the idea of Reese continuing with her Captain, not after she knew how he felt. _She did know, didn't she?_

"Crews," Tidwell spoke to him, but Charlie was miles away. "Earth to Crews," he waved his hand in front of Charlie's face. That annoyed the taller man and it showed. "Dude, who hit you?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed recalling the sting of Dani's palm on his face. _How could he know?_ Then he recalled Roman hit him too. That seemed like days ago.

"You got a…." Tidwell reached to touch him. Charlie batted his hand away. "….a fist print on your face," Tidwell finished dully.

"Roman," was all Crews said.

"Uh-huh," Tidwell replied. So now they'd become almost monosyllabic. They stared at each other. "So, I'm gonna take Dani…Detective Reese….to the hospital."

"Home," Crews replied.

"Uh….no?" Tidwell's gaze shifted from Crews to Reese and back to Crews. She looked pissed at him. "Is she pissed at you?" Crews' countenance was emotionless. "Dude, why is she pissed at you?"

"Take her home, to her home," Crews demanded. "She won't want to go to the hospital."

"What if Roman…." Tidwell couldn't bring himself to state his worst fears about the horrors Dani had endured at the hands of Nevikov.

"He didn't," Crews said strongly. "Because he knows what I'll do if he hurts her."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," Tidwell clapped him on the shoulder. "You better make yourself scarce. The brass is after you and they don't seem pleased. Here," he handed a set of keys to Crews, "take my car, take her home. I gotta deal with this…." he gestured to the circus that had descended on the quiet orange grove.

It made sense, but it didn't make Charlie feel any better about the long walk to the car where Dani sat stewing, spoiling for a fight. He tossed the keys up and down in his hands twice and then decided now was the right time.

Dani Reese was studiously examining the dirt under her nails. She tried to clean some of it out with a straightened paper clip she'd found in Tidwell's ashtray. The door opened and the car dipped under the weight of the driver, which she knew without looking up wasn't Tidwell.

Charlie Crews stared straight ahead and started the car.

"What the fuck?" she was instantly on edge. She could smell the scent of his aftershave, the tang of his sweat and a hint of lemon from his shampoo. "What are you doing?" She could still taste the flavor of fruity bubblegum he'd been chewing when they kissed.

"Driving you home," he supplied only the required information. He put the car in drive before she could decide to hop out. "Whose home would you like to go to?"

He could have sworn she growled. "You've got some nerve."

"What?" he truly was clueless about this slight. "I'm just here to take you home."

"As in? Your place or mine?" she painted the picture for him of what she saw.

She'd gotten him all wrong. He wasn't like other men, other lovers. He meant to be patient with her, to let her decide what would happen and when. It pissed him off that she couldn't sense or know the difference. "As in your mother's, Tidwell's or yours," his tone was sharper than he intended. "You made it pretty clear you want nothing to so with me," he let her know the rejection hurt. He was Zen, he wasn't bulletproof.

A soft, "oh." was all she said. They rode in silence bouncing over the uneven furrows where the dirt road crossed the rows of fruit in his orange grove. They drove in awkward silence for a few minute until the smooth blacktop of the highway was under their tires. As he navigated the surface streets, for the first time since she's known him, Charlie Crews looked uncomfortable.

"Look," she began trying to keep her tone neutral. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I appreciate you coming after me," she explained.

"I will always come for you," he said forcefully. "No one gets to hurt you Reese."

She nodded accepting how strongly he had and always would defend her. Then she fixed her eyes straightforward and jumped off the cliff in front of them. "Since we're kissing now, I think you should stop calling me Reese."

Charlie's anger slammed into park and his psyche coughed in fits and starts of possibility – a possibility she had created in just one simple sentence. He turned his head to look at her, a bemused smile on his face.

She glanced sideways shyly, "what?" she asked as if she didn't know his cause for confusion. It was her, she tied him up in knots and then cut him free – just for fun.

"Are we….kissing?"

"We just did."

"I meant….again."

"Not now," she objected. "Just drive the damned car."

"But at some point in the future…." He toyed with her. She'd opened the door, after all.

"Maybe," she coyly answered. He was so distracted they were nearly sideswiped by a city bus on the I-5. "If you don't kill us first."

His grin was in the megawatt range. "Okay…..Dani….where would you like to go?"


	3. Chapter 3

_"Where do you want to go?"_

The simple question of where to go perplexed Dani Reese.

 _Wherever you go, there you are_ , the Zen teaching held.

She glanced sideways at her partner. He was driving along the Pacific Coast Highway with no particular direction or destination in mind, but he seemed content to drive so long as she rode at his side. He seemed to know that she didn't know where she wanted to be.

 _How had Crews' Zen seeped into her life?_ She wondered as she listened to the teachings in her headphones while killing time at the FBI. It was there she realized that she knew him, she knew he wasn't a bad cop or a bad man, she knew he wasn't the man the FBI said he was and that she could never do what they wanted. She was more sure of him, than she'd ever been of herself. .

If she'd asked him how he'd gotten inside her head, Crews would say, "Zen isn't mine. It belongs to everyone and no one." He'd smile one of his quiet knowing smiles and tell her nothing more of what she wanted to know. He seemed to know that no one could tell her what she most wanted to know. _Where do you want to go?_

She knew where she didn't want to go, which was to Tidwell's house because of what that meant. It meant they were together. It meant they were okay, but they weren't and part of it was her, but another part of why they weren't okay wasn't her. She didn't want Tidwell to misinterpret her presence to mean they were okay.

Her mind travelled back to his cheerful encouragement that day. _Dead guy on a stick and Crews' thing with the pigeons._ She'd gone to the FBI at Tidwell's urging. She could still hear him telling her how good it would be for her career. A week under a hood, in a dank basement, surrounded by Russians playing cards and smoking, she had a lot of time to think. She wondered if he knew. _Was the FBI always a set up?_

She shook her head in disgust and disbelief. She remembered the paranoia of drugs and vowed never to go there again, but her brain raced there while her limbs were restrained. _Was it always the plan to turn her against Crews? It had been with Lt Karen Davis. Was Tidwell any different? Was their relationship real or was it just to get to Crews? Did everyone have to have an agenda?_

Crews slowed, signaled and made for a coffee kiosk on the roadside. He ordered what he knew she liked, handed her the coffee and returned to the highway. No questions, no inquisition, just coffee and his quiet company. He somehow knew what she needed most was time to process.

"How come you don't have any questions for me?" she challenged.

"Who says I don't?" he replied coolly. "Now is not the time." Then he was the Sphinx again. The Sphinx driving, silhouetted by the setting California sun, glinting off the Pacific Ocean; it hurt to look at him.

She looked away, blinking back tears. She thought about Crews silly "foundations" speech, how he'd wished her well, assured her he'd be fine and endured her absence without complaint. But she also realized throughout her stint at the FBI, she and Crews remained connected. Like she'd told Roman, she and Crews WERE connected.

Sometimes he called her, other times she called him. They spoke often about the cases he was working. Each time she spoke with him she could see his face as he puzzled over the things at crime scenes. It was clear in her mind what he looked like and exactly what he'd be doing during their conversations. They discussed his substitute partners: first Bobby Stark, then Jane Seever; their characteristics, talents and shortcomings. She picked up on the fact that a man who could be content with nothing, found dissatisfaction with both substitutes. Without him ever saying it; she could tell he missed her. Strange as it was to believe, she found herself missing him too.

"I don't want to go back to my place," she spoke louder than she meant to, after too much internal thought her own voice surprised her.

"Okay," he replied, acknowledging her statement that wasn't an answer.

"And I'm not going to Tidwell's," she added, this time speaking more quietly as she sipped the warm coffee. She swore she could feel the caffeine coursing through her veins like heroin.

"I don't know what I was thinking…" she drifted to a stop, "….. I guess I thought he could make me happy," she explained partly for his benefit, but more to herself – just to hear it out loud.

"No one can make you happy," Crews offered, "but you."

She eyed him suspiciously, but kept any smart aleck comments to herself.

If she went to Crews' home, she didn't think he'd object, but they would end up sleeping together, which she knew was a bad idea right now. She watched his long fingers grip the steering wheel and imagined his strong sinewy arms wrapped around her, his fingers digging into her flesh in the pale areas of her body. She imagined the warmth of him covering her and the piercing blue eyes she avoided most of the time. She shuddered to dislodge the warmth growing in her belly from just the thought of sex with the tall red head. That left her two options, home or her mother's house.

"I think you should take me home – to my place," she voiced her decision.

"You know Tidwell will come there," he cautioned.

"Tell him not to," she replied, "when you return the car." She explained herself while scrutinizing him. She couldn't know if he knew her level of dissatisfaction with their Captain, her lover. "Just tell him I need some time to myself."

"Look, Reese….Dani," he corrected still having difficulty forcing himself to use her first name. It felt foreign on his tongue and exotic like a tantalizing new fruit. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to be alone right now."

He looked so earnest and sincere; it was hard to imagine not jumping his bones right now in this car, in broad daylight on the side of the highway. He was her weakness and she knew it.

"What about your mother's?" he offered.

"I can't…..I don't want to go there." _They had to talk about it sometime, right? Why not now?_ A ragged sigh escaped her, "because if I go there, she's going to fuss over me. Because if I go there I'm going to tell her what Roman said to me about my father." She watched for his reaction. Crews knew her father was involved in something, but neither of them had any idea that her father was tied into Roman or his crime syndicate.

Crews said absolutely nothing, but he winced, a reaction he couldn't disguise. His head twisted slightly as though someone had stabbed him. He opened his mouth to speak, but then didn't.

"Don't you want to know what Roman said about my father?" she goaded angrily. She wasn't sure who she was angry with, but anger came easily for her.

"I do," he answered honestly and kept his tone level despite the rise of bile in his throat, "when you're ready to tell me."

Neither spoke for a few minutes and eventually he pulled the car to the roadside.

"I didn't even know your father knew Roman, but it figures…." he couldn't hide the scorn and disgust in his tone.

"Yeah? How exactly does it figure?" she argued. "Because he was he a bad cop?" She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come.

"Yes," Crews gave her the truth she deserved. "He was a bad cop. The man who killed the Seybolt family was his confidential informant. He knew I was innocent and he let them lock me in a cage for twelve years." The rage seethed inside him, rattling against his clenched teeth trying to escape. "And he was not nice to you."

"He was not nice to me? Really?" She could hear herself headed towards shouting even though that was unreasonable. "He was not nice to me! How does that compare….how is that even in the same league with what he did to you?"

"No one gets to hurt you, Reese," there was a low growling tone in his reply.

Her emotions were raw. She was exhausted. Her bones hurt and she felt like a sheet of glass the wind could break. Dust devils in the sand at the roadside swirled in front of the car. The Pacific Coast dropped away beneath her door two hundred feet below. She was transfixed.

Crashing into the rocks, sea waves sent a spray of fine mist into the air; catching the sun it created a rainbow. Out that door was certain death; a two hundred foot fall. _Death by rainbow_. Her hand shook as she reached for the door and it was then that she heard Charlie Crews' voice and for the first time ever, he frightened her.

"Don't you dare," he menaced. "Don't think for an instant that is a reasonable choice. I know you've been through a lot. I know there's more to come, but don't you dare think about leaving." Her hand withdrew to her lap. "Don't you leave this car, this ledge, this state or this planet, because I'm not letting go of you. So if you want out, then we go – together."

He reached for the gearshift and revved the engine.

"You wanna go? I'll go. Let's go," he said. She knew he meant it.

Her hand covered his, "Charlie, don't."

He looked at her, through her and it was then she saw it; the beast, the rage, the anger that hid behind the Zen.

"You gave your life for mine. I wouldn't throw that away. It just looks so peaceful. I just want to be at peace. Where can I find peace?" Her voice ended in heartbreak.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie found a quiet set of bungalows along the Pacific Coast Highway, paid cash for an empty room farthest from office. He registered under a made up name, Mark Rawls, winking at Dani as he did it. Rawls was the man whose son was killed in their very first case together. That man, Arthur Tins, killed both father and son. Charlie thought about Rawls a lot.

" _Everybody's got family,"_ Rawls and he had spoken in unison on that first interview in the yard. Everyone except him had family; Charlie's mother was dead, his father he wished only the worst for, not death but unpleasantness for sure. Ted was close, and they'd always be tied together by shared experience; but only Dani Reese and Rachel approached his definition of family in his small circle.

He made her lock the room door as he and left to dump the car at a local PD parking lot. She informed him she was going to shower "for a week" and gave him the key to get back in. If by some miracle she was done before he got back, Dani promised she would be fast asleep due to exhaustion.

Crews parked Tidwell's unmarked car in an obscure corner of the local police department parking lot, away from cameras and prying eyes. He caught an Uber back to the bungalow, but had the driver drop him at a burger spot across the street. He paid the man cash to cancel the trip in the system, erasing any trace of their whereabouts. They were effectively off the grid. He bought a couple burgers, charming the cook into dirtying up the grill again as the stand was on the verge of closing. He figure Reese would be hungry after her ordeal; he certainly was.

Then as he walked back to the bungalow, he felt unsure for the first time in weeks. Ever since he and Ted had found Reese's phone, badge and gun in the dirt of a vacant lot; he'd had a singular focus – to get back the one thing he couldn't live without – _Reese._

He went to their room. It seemed weird to him to think of it that way. It wasn't really "theirs." They weren't really together in the way that most couples that checked into hotels under a false name were "together." Not in the way he and Jen had been all those years ago; whispered promises, feverish kisses, frantic disrobing, followed by hickeys, crashing releases and tangled, sweaty sheets. But then he considered that he and Reese were together in a way that defied description or explanation.

 _Crews and Reese_ ….

He played with the room key before pocketing it to do some thinking. He wasn't ready to be alone with her. Things were still too raw, too fresh, too immediate. He didn't trust himself with her. For him? There was no Crews without Reese. He wondered if it was the same for her. She'd been fine before him, he wondered if she felt the same kind of connection to him? Any kind of connection to him? There was something indefinable between them and there had been since the beginning. The woman in the room behind him frightened him in a way he couldn't really understand. He knew he'd ever hurt her, but he was terrified that he'd disappoint her. He knew instinctively that their coupling wouldn't disappoint, but it was the afterwards he feared. That silence in the dark after the heat of their friction cooled; the next day, the next week, the rest of his life, which he could no longer imagine without her in it. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on Reese for balance and how utterly lost he was without her.

He'd done okay with Bobby. But there was history between Bobby Stark and himself that no amount of time, chuckles and pretend smiles could undo. Seaver and he had fared slightly better. At least Seaver didn't go to the emergency room to have her stomach pumped, but she had been forced to take a life to save his. Reese had been forced to shoot and kill a suspect before, but Seaver had not. Something in the young woman changed after that night; there was a heaviness about her that felt like a wet wool blanket. Seaver saved his life, by stopping Kathy White from cutting him in half in the dark. And while he was grateful, Seaver did not save him in the same way Reese had.

While Jane Seaver stopped Kathy White from taking his life, Dani Reese had resurrected his soul, which was just a tiny dying ember when Connie finally got him freed. With Dani's steady hand, loyalty and a faith in him, he felt he did not deserve; she'd managed to restore the life in the empty husk of the man he was when he left prison. It wasn't the money, it wasn't the suits, the mansion, the cars, the pool or the many, many girls who'd finally filed his void. It was her – it was Reese. She was too important to lose.

He sat on the tiny porch of the bungalow in the fading sunlight, looking out at the ocean turned orange by the waning sunlight. He didn't want to disturb her. The lights were out, the curtains drawn and room dark. He wolfed down one burger, but left the other for her. He wondered if she'd emerge, when he didn't return; or if she'd be hungry; or if she'd even want it, but he saved it for her anyway. He remained very hungry, but it was late now; the sun has slipped away and the burger shack was closed.

He reached into his pocket as the sea and night air chilled his hands and found an orange. He couldn't recall putting it there, but he must have. He felt the dimpled soft skin with his fingers. Tactile sensation was something he first rediscovered after prison. He withdrew the orange from his pocket, turning it over and over in his hand for several minutes, before his hunger drove him to eat it. He smelled the crisp scent of citrus and the sticky juices had him licking his fingers when she opened the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asked with her hands on her hips in white terry cloth bathrobe. Her hair was dark, wet and hung in gentle curls around her face. She looked beautiful, haggard, but still lovely…and pissed.

"Getting you dinner," he joked while quickly grabbing the brown paper bag and holding it up to her. "Hungry?"

"God, yes," she caved as he waved the bag in front of her. The smell of even a cold burger with onions, cheese created an immediate reaction in her stomach – one they could both hear. He chuckled as she snatched the bag from him and muttered, "get in here." He heard paper ripping and with it the tenseness he'd felt shredded and evaporated. Just being in the same space as Reese, made him ease.


	5. Chapter 5

_Flashback sequence – character development focusing on Dani Reese and her fears…._

 _Special thanks to Ezza and Kimprobable whose reviews (public and private) encouraged me to continue this piece._

 _For all of you out there who review; reviews matter to writers. Good or bad, just to know someone is noticing the thoughts, feelings and words you carefully craft and then cast into the void.….._

* * *

The door closed behind Crews leaving her in silence. She was alone for the first time in over a week. She could feel the crushing sound of silence, one that used to intimidate her. Now she breathed it in, letting it penetrate down to her bones; the peace and quiet she found there, between guilty gulps of air as she schooled her breathing to even and deep, gave her strength.

Three raps on the door disturbed her little moment of Zen.

"What?" she asked walking to the door.

"Lock it," Crews voice commanded from the other side.

"How are you gonna get in when you get back?" she objected.

"Lock it," his command was deeper and his voice more firm.

"Fine," she mumbled to herself and threw the tumblers. The door audibly locked. Then for good measure she threw the extra bolt on top of the door. "Happy?" she asked acidly.

"Over the moon," he joked darkly.

"Crews?" she wondered aloud if he was still there.

"I'm here," he confirmed through the thick door. She imagined him just on the other side, listening intently, head cocked to the side, quizzically examining the plank of wood that separated them.

"Be careful," she cautioned.

"I will," he promised. He moved away and she heard the sound of his footfalls fading on the sidewalk in front of the bungalow. Then she heard the car start, and pull off, until silence once again returned.

She walked to the bathroom and looked around. It was so normal; the bathroom, the bedroom. Just an average hotel room; king sized bed, desk, TV, armoire, a single high backed chair in a floral print, a painting of kids flying a kite on a barren stretch of beach. After a week or more of being taped to chair, in a dank, dark basement that smelled of dogs, piss and cigarettes; it was too normal. The clean white porcelain of the sink, commode and tub mocked her. She ran her hands over the stiff white towels.

Her black clothes seemed at war with all the white. In all the westerns, she'd seen on the television growing up, the good guys wore white; the bad men wore black. Roman wore a suit completely of white, yet underneath lurked the darkest soul she'd ever seen. She examined herself in the mirror, all dressed in black. _Was she a good person or a bad one?_ The FBI had asked her to betray Crews. LAPD asked her to betray Crews. It should have been easy; if he meant nothing to her.

If…..

But she hadn't. Her choice was him; and it had been since the beginning. Since their first case, even when he vexed her, annoyed her, pissed her off; she chose him. He meant something to her. He was the answer to an unasked question. A question she didn't even know she had until they met. The question was why. _Why him? Why her? Why did he go to prison? Why did Constance choose him to set about freeing? Why did LAPD let him come back? Why did her father hate him - a man he professed not to know? Why did Crews keep certain things from her, but share others so freely? And why and when had Charlie Crews become so god damned irreplaceable in her life?_

She drew back the shower curtain and turned the water on as hot as it would go. As she waited for the steam to rise, she raised her hair off her face, gingerly touching the bruise Roman left when he struck her. Her fingers probed the edge of her eye socket and cheekbone. They trailed to the corner of her mouth, the one Roman bloodied with a backhand. Then another sensory memory overrode her memory of the pain Roman inflicted.

It was Crews' eternally chapped lips against hers. His kiss conveyed a lifetime of want without bruising, without harm, without danger or fear. She touched her lips remembering his lips touching hers; first softly, then with some insistence, then with heat and promise. Somehow Charlie's kiss was stronger in her mind than all those days of abuse and fear. She held onto that, as she stripped off her clothes and with them her darkness fell away.

She stepped into the shower. The water was scalding, but she welcomed it. She stood in the hot spray letting it wash away the knots and kinks. Then she set to work on the adhesive stuck to her wrists from the duct tape, she rubbed until her skin was raw and red. The water began to cool and she climbed from the tub and toweled herself dry. The hotel had supplied soap, shampoo and conditioner but no comb, so she ran her fingers through her hair to untangle it some. The feeling was a luxury she hadn't experienced in a couple weeks.

In the closet, she found a white fluffy terry cloth robe with the name of the motel emblazoned on it. She slipped it on, checked the peephole and sat down on the bed. She didn't want to go to sleep until Crews returned no matter what she'd told him. She moved to the high backed chair in her effort not to sleep, but the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore lulled her into a stupor.

Moments later she blinked awake and it was dark inside the room and out. The darkness frightened her. For a moment, she was back there in the basement, under the hood, trapped against a stiff chair, but then her arms were free. As she leapt to her feet, plush carpeting greeted her toes. _You're not there, you're here. You're not there, you're here,_ she thought to herself. _Where is here?_ Her brain reached for the answer to the darkness that wasn't in the past. She reached the curtain and pulled it back. A sliver of moonlight greeted and transfixed her. Her breath returned in gasps and she choked back a sob. She blinked back tears staring at the moon.

She was here. It was now. "You're not there, you're here," she murmured aloud.

She turned on a lamp, but the unnaturally bright white bulb hurt her eyes. She turned it off, plunging the room back into shadow. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the silver moonlight cast by the waning moon.

"Why isn't he back?' she wondered aloud to herself.

She stalked quietly to the room door and peered out the peephole. There is the shadows sat Crews. I looked like he was licking his fingers. "What a weirdo," she remarked to herself. She began unlocking the door and realized that her heart rate was elevated. She was excited to see him.

It made her angry. Everything about the tall redhead made her angry. That she was excited about seeing him again. That he was sitting on the porch in the dark licking his damned fingers. But the thing that made her angriest of all was the "why" of Charlie Crews.

She breathed in an out and concentrated on lowering her heart rate, before damn near jerking the door off its hinges.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asked with her hands on her hips in white terry cloth bathrobe. Her hair was dark, wet and hung in gentle curls around her face. She tried to project confidence and her easy ally, anger.

"Getting you dinner," Crews joked. He grabbed a brown paper bag and holding it up to her. "Hungry?"

The smell of even a cold burger with onions, cheese created an immediate reaction in her stomach – one they could both hear.

"God, yes," she caved as he waved the bag in front of her.

His chuckle reached her ears, but she was too damned hungry to react to him. Alls she could manage was a muttered, "get in here." She snatched the bag from him and ripped into the bag. The burger was long since cold, but it didn't matter. It tasted like heaven. The crunch of the lettuce and onion, the tartness of the pickles, the rich smoothness of the cheese made her groan in appreciation. That a simple cold cheeseburger could taste so good shocked her.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Crews announced.

He pulled off the outer layer of his clothes, shedding his navy pin striped suit jacket and powder blue shoes; and kicking off his shoes on his way to the bathroom. He grinned looking back over his shoulder, "while you have your moment alone with that cheeseburger."

The image of that smile from him, in a white ribbed tank and blue slacks framed in the yellow light from the bathroom was the last thing she remembered before licking her own fingers as the burger vanish all too quickly. She suddenly felt quite tired after a hot shower and with a full belly. Charlie Crews was just a thin wall away, hidden in a cloud steam, soon to be swathed in white fluffy towels. Secure in that knowledge, she shed her robe, pulling on his discarded pale blue shirt, buttoning half the buttons on it, climbed into the bed, snuggling deep beneath the comforter and fell fast asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Written because...I just couldn't leave well enough alone._

* * *

Dani blinked awake, but even before she opened her eyes the soft warm orange glow let her know it was morning and she was no longer restrained in a dank, dark basement. The sun was so bright she could see orange through her eyelids. But the warmth she felt did not come from the sun. Spooned against her backside was her tall red haired partner. His left arm was under her pillow and his right slung across her with his hand tucked under that same pillow. He enveloped her entirely; her smaller torso fit into the hollow of his chest and his steady breath tickled her ear. She released a sigh of contentment.

There were many times in her twenty-eight years on the planet, Dani Reese awoke in a hotel room bed with a strange man; and Crews was stranger than most. Underneath his sunshiny exterior lurked a dark dangerous man, one she could sense but rarely saw. But this time, this morning, was unique. This man had only kissed her once and yet she felt as though she'd found something unnamable, indefinable, but perfect - in that moment and just again now as she'd awakened. She'd never felt this with anyone else. He felt right - to her. Broken in the same ways she was.

She turned in his arms. She felt him shift to accommodate her move, rising to his elbow. His free hand withdrew across her belly, lighting fires she wasn't prepared for in its wake. Dani wasn't sure to expect, but nothing prepared her for the look in her partner's eyes, as she gazed into them. Unguarded, pale blue eyes filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity stared back at her. In all the time she'd known Crews and she knew him well, better than most, she'd never seen him this vulnerable, this real. She smiled lazily, hiding her embarrassment, but his soft smile mirrored hers and she found herself unable to look away from those blue eyes.

His thumb grazed her bottom lip as he stroked he cheek brushing hair back from her face. His fingers twisted her hair around one and he drew close. "Good morning, farishte," his voice was low and alluring.

Something tickled her mind. _Farishte…._ Persian for angel. _Since when did Charlie speak Persian?_

 _S_ he brushed the thought aside, because she knew what came next and she wanted it badly. She closed her eyes, raised her face to his lips and surrendered to the kiss she knew was coming. Through her eyelids she imagined she could still see the morning light reflecting off his hair. She saw orange and moaned in pleasure.

The sound of her Dani's voice woke them both. She opened her eyes and found herself alone in bed. She sat up suddenly, the realization dawning on her that she'd been dreaming. Having an erotic dream about her goofy partner who was slumped half sitting, mostly falling out of the high backed chair opposite the bed. He was watching over her, not holding her in his embrace.

But her voice and motion woke him. He watched her intently but made no sudden moves. After a moment, he spoke. "Hey," his voice had gravel in it. "You're okay," he confirmed. "It's okay, Reese. You're not there, you're here."

 _How could he know? How could he perfectly capture exactly what she'd told herself in this room last night alone?_ She rubbed her eyes; confusion must have shown on her face. "I thought," she began, and then she looked at the bed beside her. "Weren't you just…" Her hand ran over the smooth undisturbed bedding beside her.

He smiled in confusion, but his voice remained calm and comforting. "You're not there, you're here," he reassured again.

She gave him a hard stare. He couldn't know his words to her were identical to the ones she reassured herself with. But her expression was not one of relief; it was confusion and something indefinable.

Then his brain connected the dots. Reese assumed they'd slept together or they would. He suppressed the wide grin he felt as his heart leapt, cleared his throat and explained. "I came out of the shower. You were asleep. I know we're trying something new…. But I didn't want to presume anything." He explained.

She eyed him skeptically but found only her partner and friend wearing his t-shirt, boxers and a mildly amused smile. She rolled away from him and grumbled, "Come to bed." Her tone was annoyed, like he remembered, but then she'd just invited him to share her bed, so may not all that angry after all.

He wondered if he could just lay there and not act on impulses he felt so strongly just the sight of her excited him. He rose, twisted, cracking his back, stalling for time to steady himself.

She shifted over, punched her pillow and turned toward the wall. She was making room for him just as she always had: first as her partner, in their patrol car; then as his friend and confidant, in her life; and now, as her lover, in her bed. Charlie Crews felt true fear for the first time in a long time.

"Relax," she muttered ending in a yawn, "I'm not gonna jump you."

He let go a long shaky sigh and confessed. "I'm afraid…."

She rolled to face him. "Of me?"

"Of….disappointing you, of letting you down, of not being enough for you," he gutted out his fears.

"You mean?" she strung the words out over a long space, "sexually?"

"No," he almost yelped. "I'm good there." He blushed furiously.

"And modest," her dry sardonic wit shined through the awkwardness.

Her sarcasm was familiar and he felt his chest ease from its tight constriction. "My fear is losing you."

"I'm not lost; I'm right here," she cautiously laid her small hand against his chest.

He still couldn't bring himself to look at her, but he covered her hand with his.

"Charlie," she beckoned, "look at me."

He breathed deeply and turned on his side. She was inches away. Her eyes were soft and curious.

"I knew you'd come. I knew you'd find a way. Even Roman knew it. He knew you and I were connected," her smile hid in the slight twist at the corner of her mouth, just where he wanted to kiss her.

"…are connected," he corrected without thinking. Her eyes were his undoing, but her voice and breath this close was hypnotic. He knew he shouldn't touch her but he was helpless against her closeness. His hand traveled lightly up her arm, a gentle caress. It was why he'd stationed himself all the way over there in the chair that seemed like a distant memory now.

She subconsciously licked her lips and he closed the distance without thought kissing her softly. Then the kiss deepened, time stilled and he got lost.

"Crews," she cautioned. They were tangled together on an unmistakable path.

"I know, I'm sorry," he apologized as he withdrew, planting a soft, warm kiss on her brow. Then his eyes opened, found hers and he changed his mind. "No, that's a lie. I'll never be sorry for kissing you."

"Stop," she chastised him as she pushed him away.

He rolled onto his back and exhaled as he looked skyward. Then she did something unexpected that made his heart do flip-flops. She wriggled closer, snaking her arm across his waist and laying her head on his chest. She hugged him tightly with that one arm.

"Go to sleep," she commanded.

"Just let me…" he adjusted his arm, sliding it under her pillow.

She tensed, but when he stopped moving realized he was allowing her even closer. Charlie Crews didn't allow people close to him. He held them all at a safe distance with his sunshine, smiles and Zen. He'd opened his heart to her and only her. She knew the discipline it took for him to allow someone this close.

She snuggled against him. It was the most unusual thing he'd ever experienced her do. She chose to be close to him, closer than ever before. It wasn't about sex, it was intimacy; a first for them both.

"Are you okay?" he wanted confirmation that this wasn't as strange as it felt.

"I'm awake," she yawned and buried her head against his chest. "Maybe for the first time in my life," then her breathing leveled off and she fell asleep. He registered it only moments before he too fell into a deep dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Alright, I got bored. Gonna start finishing up some of these stories I left hanging._

 _For those of you still with me, reviews are golden. Life is the intellectual property of Far Shariat and Rand Ravich, all mistakes, misspellings and misses are entirely mine._

She was having another dream and this time she knew it. He was there beside her, but the visions in her cobwebbed brain of his pale hands and long sinewy fingers on her body weren't real. They were imagined. She remained still, trying to determine his level of consciousness, and if he'd heard her moan and whimper. She listened to his measured breathing and as her eyes blinked open, she felt the warmth of his closeness at every place their bodies touched. They were tangled together, legs, arms. It felt real, not confining, not constraining; it felt right. It both soothed and terrified her.

He lay still in practiced composure. He was masterful at this. Inside prison, they watched him on the grainy closed circuit cameras betting on whether he was alive or dead. Many times these bets were only settled by sending someone to check. There were times he wanted to will himself into death, to stop his breath and escaping into the only refugee open to him – death. In truth her writhing and moans woke him minutes before. Her mute stillness told him she was awake and processing. His brain flipped possibilities over and back, examining them. Either, she was having an erotic dream, which was interesting – the only question was about whom? Or she was distressed over nightmares about her captivity, waking in the dark to imagine herself confined and hooded in the darkness of a basement where she told him she was kept. Until he knew, patience and stillness were his friends.

Dani Reese didn't show weakness. He'd never seen her cry. Other than their first case in the crack house, he'd never seen her ask anyone for help. They lay together on the edge of a knife. He didn't dare breath, she didn't dare move. He knew he had to let her know she wasn't alone in the darkness. It was a risk, but he had become reckless in prison – sometimes that recklessness still benefited him. Now was one of those times. He had to be the reckless one, so she could maintain control.

He licked his lips, and dove in, "I'm awake," he said simply.

She opened her eyes, he felt her eyelashes flutter against his chest, but he didn't dare move.

He felt her breath ease. "Are you okay?"

She nodded against his chest, but no words came.

"This is a little weird, huh?" he tried levity.

Again she nodded.

"Dani," he beckoned. "Please look at me."

She twisted and turned her eyes to his.

"We have nothing to feel weird about. Nothing happened," he spoke softly but his eyes were kind and concerned. She said nothing. "I can leave if you…" he offered.

"No," she finally broke her silence. Dani could hold her words so close that each syllable was a vine on the edge of a cliff that he hung onto. He waited for her to find her footing. His patience paid off after what seemed like an interminable silence. "Tidwell…" she explained with a single word.

"Right," he said and moved to rise.

"Crews," she stilled him with just that name. He looked back at her. Her dark curls ended at her shoulders and the smooth tan of the skin over her collarbone drew his eyes. He noticed his distraction and raised his eyes to her face, but that was worse. Her sharp brown eyes were soft and concerned. So far, each of her responses had been only a single word. He needed more, so he withdrew again…protecting his heart from further harm. This time her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Charlie," she reframed. Another long pause followed.

Then a break in the clouds, "you know I'm not a talker," her dark humor surfaced.

"Yeah," he laughed breathlessly, "but this morning…you're the Sphinx." He scratched his head, ruffling his hair. He risked a glance her way and found her grinning. His smile in return broke the awkwardness in two - cleanly. "I'll get us coffee," he announced as he rose purposefully and dressed. He didn't ask for her permission. He just left.

Outside, he shook off the oddness of their morning. Weird was understatement. Both were crashing from a week-long misadventure, in which both of their lives were in serious peril. They suffered from stress, lack of sleep, the highs and lows of adrenaline rushes from threats, physical violence and fear. Then the release of escape, set them on edge. A crash was coming and while needed sleep was welcome, another type of crash remained. The hard truths they both ignored for too long were going to shake the foundations of their respective houses.

Inside, she had the same conversation with herself. They weren't less; they were more. But she still needed to sort out what all this meant. Days under a hood in a basement gave her a lot of time to consider things. She thought she had it all figured out. She knew the FBI was always a set up, but by whom? Certainly not Crews, but did Tidwell know what he was volunteering her for? She didn't think so, she didn't want to believe he did.

After a week of lie detector tests, forms and security clearance questions, she was forced to realize that she didn't miss Tidwell; she missed Crews. She knew Crews wasn't what they thought, he wasn't a bad man or a dirty cop. He was her partner and to her - that meant something. She missed more than simply working with him. She missed his presence, the safety and security she felt only with and around him. She wondered if that meant something more and if he missed her too. His actions in the orange grove gave her the answer to her question.

Roman's comments about her father cemented for her Jack's link with the seedy underbelly of police corruption. Whether or not he was dead, he was dead to her. He'd left her mother in tears and maybe it was better that he was gone. But Crews, why set Crews up? This niggling in the back of her brain had become an itch that she wanted to scratch. Crews would help her find out, she knew this as surely as she knew he'd come for her.

But then Crews did something so breathlessly reckless that she knew he felt the same connection to her. To surrender himself in exchange for her life and to have no plan beyond that was so typically and unerringly Charlie Crews. Climbing over fences, charging after suspects, he knew no fear…except….apparently losing her. And somehow that didn't surprise her.

How deep their connection went….remained unknown, but when he kissed her the swirling waters cleared and she knew. He was her answer, one she hadn't been looking for, but found none the less. She believed she might be his; and as broken and scared as she was – she felt inadequate for such a strong man. Her thoughts were interrupted by the door unlocking and Crews returning with two cups of coffee and breakfast burritos he'd summoned out of thin air.

"Food truck," he answered her unspoken question. He was just too good at knowing, and predicting her. It was uncanny sometimes, but no less odd than her knowing what he was doing and thinking over the phone all those days and weeks they were apart.

They ate in companionable silence on the patio as the sea at low tide brushed gently against the rocks below. The crashing crescendo of the high tide was just a memory. Seabirds skittered on the beach and rose and dove at dizzying speed and crazy angles against the thermals currents off the beach and rocks below them.

Crews wolfed his first burrito down and licked his fingers before reaching into the paper bag for a second. She ate slower and sipped at her coffee while watching the birds. After his second burrito, Crews reached for his coffee and began his ritual of talking about inane subjects. Before it infuriated her, now she found it a soothing balm for her soul.

"When the tide goes out, where does it go?" he posited a query.

"I think it's like when my parents used to ask me where I was going. I just went out," she replied. She smiled happily. This was contentment. This was them. Him talking, her half listening; but now she was talking to him – not simply letting him babble. It was a subtle shift, but a shift nonetheless.

Charlie felt encouraged and continued. "I mean all of the ocean is in the ocean. All the water that's there is always there, so where does it go?"

She shot him a sideways look, "I don't know."

He laughed, "don't ya wonder?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "No, I don't. I've lived in LA for 28 years and I've never wondered 'where does the ocean go?' I don't know, I don't care. I'm okay not knowing. I know that it's there. It's always there."

"That's more than you've spoken to me all morning," he grinned.

"Roman says he killed my father," she unraveled a conundrum they both wanted to examine. Seeing as it was a morning for introspection, she figured there was no time like the present.

"Do you believe him?" Crews asked cautiously.

"I don't know," she replied. "I don't think it matters. He left. My father left us and he wasn't a good man, a good cop. He did bad things to people, to you…and I'm okay not knowing," she explained.

"I don't think he's dead," Crews blurted out. "Roman exploits fear. He said that to frighten you, to provoke you, but if he killed Jack – where's the body? He doesn't do things in the dark, he likes to show off his crimes. I don't believe he's dead."

"Do you believe he knew you were innocent?" she challenged. She'd asked him about her father before; and he'd neatly skirted the issue, avoiding her questions. This time she held his eyes.

"Yes," he gave her the simple truth. "He knew. He hid the girl, Rachel. He protected her. Why I don't know…but he knew I didn't kill her family."

"Rachel…" Dani's mind reached for a face in the past to connect to the name. The small, slight, pale, dark haired girl at Crews house when he shot his father. "The girl at your house? The friend of the family? That Rachel?"

He smiled as she connected the dots.

"She's the Seybolt girl?"

He nodded fishing another burrito out of the bag. He offered it to her and she waved him off.

"How can you eat that much?"

"I'm hungry," he answered with his mouth full.

She sipped at her coffee and watched the birds. "What happens next?"

"What do you want to happen?" he countered.

"I'd like to go home," she gestured at herself, "get clean clothes, sleep in my own bed, have a long hot bath." She watched him carefully, but he did not react. "But….LAPD is still looking for you….aren't they?"

He gulped hard and nodded.

"Don't choke on that thing," she chided him.

"I won't. That'd be sad. Survive Roman, choke on a burrito," he joked.

"Then I guess we go in," she rose intent on changing clothes so they could go.

"They are looking for me," he said catching her by the wrist. "You can just go home."

"I am not going anywhere without you," she shook loose of him and went back inside.

"I don't deserve her," he told the birds, the sea and the sky.

"Stop talking to yourself," she scolded from inside. "Come' on, let's go. Let's get this over with so we can go home."

He wondered if they would go home to their respective homes or if they'd go home together. He wanted to ask, but he knew better than to broach that subject with her.


	8. Chapter 8

They took a cab to the station and walked through the front door to looks and stares.

Slowly word began to spread and people rose once again to slowly applaud and marvel at Charlie Crews. For while LAPD might be rotten from within at the highest levels; the rank and file boys and girls in blue were beginning to develop a bit of a crush on Detective Charlie Crews and his feats of amazement. Tales of his reckless lawlessness in pursuit of a higher form of justice resonated with many officers and detectives and they were genuinely glad to see him return. Many offered handshakes, shoulder pats and words of encouragement. He was once again one of their fold.

Two stern IAD types made their way through the sea of blue. A woman in her 50's with bookish looks and a wardrobe from the 1980's and nattily dressed man in his 30's with slicked back black hair and a tailored suit introduced themselves as Delores Franklin and James Mattacio. There was the conversation about where they'd disappeared to and Charlie once again managed to answer their question without actually providing information. He brushed past them, steering Dani by the elbow until they were once again in their squad bay in front of their old desks, which sat side by side as always.

"We're going to need to take statements from you both," the IAD Detective reminded.

"Oh, I'm gonna just sit here and write up my report," Charlie told them.

"What report?" Mattacio asked. "This wasn't a sanctioned police investigation."

"No?" Charlie said. "How is it that an LAPD Detective gets kidnapped and held by a known criminal and there's not an investigation?"

This flummoxed the IAD team.

"Yeah," Charlie said again. "Writing up my report. Have a nice day though."

The IAD team scurried off unable to deal with the response of the tall red head.

Dani exhibited a wry grin and shook her head.

"What?" he questioned with a smile.

"You've never written a report in the three years we worked together," she joked.

"That's not true," he objected. "When Bobby was here, I wrote one…. Bobby has challenges with spelling."

"One, you wrote one report….in three years," she rolled her eyes. "I'll alert the media. Charlie Crews can spell. News at 11."

"I didn't miss this," he joked.

"Yes, you did," she smiled. "I have go talk to Tidwell. Sit down and write, like you promised the nice IAD people." She pointed to his chair and then reminded him again of what a strong woman she was. "I can handle this."

Tidwell was seated at his desk behind a mound of case files. He looked as though he hadn't been home since she last saw him. His hair and suit were a disheveled mess; but, in truth, he had an uncanny ability to look like that ten minutes after he showered and dressed for the day. At first it bugged her; now she found it one of his more endearing features. She cleared her throat and knocked softly and the look of relief that crossed his face made her feel all the more guilty. He loved her, she was certain of it. The big problem was that she didn't feel the same way.

He was kind, compassionate and caring, but her heart just didn't race for him. He didn't take her breath away, like the man stabbing at his keyboard and trying not to watch her. It wasn't Crews' fault, it wasn't Tidwell's, it wasn't even hers…the heart wants what the heart wants. Hers wanted Crews and she owed it to Tidwell not to continue the charade of a relationship without a future. She knew there wasn't one, not with her boss.

He started to rise, but she stopped him with a raised hand and a slight shake of her head. "Dani…" he said breathlessly. "Babe, I've been so worried about you. Where'd you go?"

"I needed a minute," she explained using Crews' words.

"From me?" he was wounded. There was no way he couldn't be.

"From everyone," she tried to soften the blow.

He winced at her lie. She wasn't alone; and he knew it. She was with Crews. That fact chaffed him, but it wasn't something he could change so he chose to ignore it.

His tone was kind, "Honey, are you okay? Did he…he didn't hurt you….did he?"

She cocked her head to the side. They both knew she was with Crews. She knew that he knew, so was he asking about Crews or Roman? She ignored the jab and answered directly, "no, Roman wouldn't hurt me. He knew what Crews would do to him."

"Roman's dead," Tidwell explained. "I've been here all night. They found his body in a burned-out SUV not far from that orange grove. His windpipe was crushed."

"Huh," she said feigning ignorance. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew Crews had killed him. She knew that Roman wouldn't have just let him go.

Tidwell watched her, but she showed him nothing. Their relationship, which had drifted apart while she was at the FBI and in captivity, fractured. It split clean in two right there. Fear killed it.

His fear was that she was with Crews, and that she always had been. He'd always been intimidated by the tall redhead's relationship with his diminutive partner. She'd assured him there was nothing there, but Crews as famously said, "there can't be nothing." He said it to anyone who would listen. Tidwell listened and the concept troubled him when it came to Dani and her partner.

Her fear was that the assignment to the FBI was a set up and it was about Crews and always had been. _Was their relationship just about spying on and manipulating Crews? Had she been played?_

"You are suspended," he said more sharply than he intended.

He watched her anger flare. The set of her jaw changed, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed.

He backpedaled hard. "What I mean is…you are suspended until the shrink clears you to return. You've been through a lot."

"What about Crews?" she inquired as she glanced through the glass to observe her partner, his head down looking at his keyboard. It was the only way he could type. It made her smile involuntarily. No matter how crazy life got, some things did not change.

"He's done," Tidwell exhaled, running his hand through his hair. Her dark looks drew more words from him. "He broke so many rules, so many laws, LAPD wants his balls in vice."

"He did it for me," she said immediately feeling guilty. Crews told her being a cop was what kept him going, now that was going to be taken from him.

"He did it for me," Tidwell echoed softly. "Because I asked him to, ordered him to…get you back….for me."

This threw her. She couldn't think for a moment. "I'm not yours," it was all she could think to say. She knew it was wrong, but she said it anyway.

"Were you ever?" he crossed into deeply personal territory and she shut down. He watched her disconnect and it pissed him off. "It's always been about you two, even when you're not together, you're together." His anger made him less cautious with his words. He burned any chance he had of ever apologizing his way back with his next words. "You think I didn't know how much you talked to him?"

"How would you know? Were you spying on me? On him? Were you always a part of this? Was this…." She gestured back and forth between them "always about Crews?"

"Dani….no…I…" he rose from his seat. But she wheeled and left him standing there wondering how this had gone so wrong.

Crews watched the whole time, he typed simply gibberish. As she left Tidwell's office, he rose to meet her. "Ready?" he questioned. Her eyes met his and he had the audacity to wink at her.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," she agreed. "I need some air."

Once outside, she felt like she could breath again. He didn't say a thing, didn't ask her anything. He walked to a park bench, stopped and then announced he was getting them coffee. He motioned to a coffee kiosk up the block and waited for her to nod her asset before he left. Never out of her site, he gave her much needed space. She found herself sitting down and breathing for balance. She closed her eyes and thought about what she'd learned from her interaction with Tidwell.

Crews returned with a tall dark cup. She sniffed it suspiciously and found it to her liking. She sipped it and felt as though the caffeine coursed through her veins like a drug; a calming, balancing drug. Crews sipped his own beverage and turned his face up towards the sun. Wearing his tortoise shell sunglasses, his eyes were hidden from her.

"You killed Roman didn't you?" she challenged.

"Yes," he replied simply. He didn't move and never even looked at her. "Yes, I did."

"Good," she smiled darkly. "No one deserved killing more than that animal."

Crews said nothing, but a hint of a smirk twisted at the corner of his lips for a fraction of a second and then it was gone. "Violence against one is violence against all. Violence against all is violence against myself."

"Does anyone know this besides me and you?" she continued undeterred.

"A few of Roman's guys," he admitted. "Four. Russians. But I don't think they're gonna say anything, and if they did, who'd believe them?"

"LAPD would," she reminded him, "that's enough."

"No….I don't think they'll arrest me again without unassailable evidence. Considering that it cost them $50 million dollars the last time they arrested the wrong guy…" his humor was dark.

"It cost you twelve years of your life," she reminded him. "I'm not willing to take the chance. Don't you tell another soul, not even Ted," she demanded.

"Don't want to break in a new partner?"

"Not fucking funny Crews," she replied tersely. "You know it's more than that."

Neither acknowledged their bond, but it grew stronger. She was keeping his secrets and protecting him. She was dangerously close, but he couldn't find it in his power to push her away. He wanted her close and relied on himself to protect her if the time came. He'd already demonstrated his willingness to trade his life for hers, he hoped he wouldn't have to.


	9. Chapter 9

"What now?" she asked. The air crackled with possibilities. He smiled and held out his hand. She took it and he held it all the way to the street where they hailed a cab and climbed in.

Their first stop was a car dealership and not just any car dealership, but "Maserati of Beverly Hills" Charlie announced cheerfully to the cab driver.

Dani shot him a strange look.

"What? We need a car," he explained bashfully. "I like those cars. You like those cars."

"I think I still have a tame little Toyota hybrid sitting in the FBI parking lot," Dani countered. "That's in my price range."

"But you like fast cars," Charlie arched his eyebrows and smiled provocatively. "I know you do. Let's buy one….rent one…" He watched her surrender to the idea before her head nodded unperceptively.

Then he reached for her hand and held it all the way up the 405 to Beverly Hills. He didn't do anything else, just hold it; brushing his thumb in little circles, then tracing figure eights across her palm and wrist. He lightly traced each finger with his thumb ratcheting up her tactile sensation while he stared out the window. She was finally forced to withdraw her hand; he was getting her excited just holding hands. He resisted, holding onto her for just a moment longer. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

He knew what he was doing to her and his sly smile as he released her hand let her know it. She smirked and adjusted her body away from him, she gazed out her window and a radio station played quietly in the background. The cab driver was mercifully mute.

Once inside the dealership, Charlie was recognized immediately and whisked away; giving Dani time to walk the showroom floor in peace. Her eyes drifted to a sleek, gun metal grey, two door sports coupe, with smooth lines, which promised both speed and power.

"Gran Turismo - Sport" the sticker read, "priced for sale at $136,050." She nearly laughed out loud. Only a fool would spend that much on a car, a fool like Crews - with money to burn.

She found him easily with her eyes. His red hair catching the long rays of LA sunshine; he was tall and sinewy; nothing like her type. A blonde woman with an expensive suit and very short skirt gushed over him, hung off him like a mink stole. She hadn't even noticed that Crews walked in with a woman. A sharp stab of jealousy pierced her heart rather unexpectedly. Then Crews lifted his head, his eyes found hers and he smiled. Just like that, the grip on her heart eased. She smiled back and turned her attention back to the car.

The interior was the most amazing red and leather. She tried the door handle and it opened easily and quietly. She slid behind the wheel and put her hands on it; imagining the driver's thrill at such an extravagant and exotic, yet powerful car. Everything in the car was easily within her reach and elegantly designed. Just as she was about to climb out, when the door shut softly, and Crews crouched beside her window, which was down.

"Do you like it?" he asked suggestively. _Just like the first guy to offer her coke._

Bells in her head rang out a warning. "I…uh…it's beautiful," she stammered.

Crews didn't wait for anything further. He stood and turned to the blonde woman. "This one," he said confidently, "we'll take this one."

"Sir," she replied trying to dissuade him, "that's our showroom model….surely we can show you another model or color on the lot…."

Crews eyes became still and hard, but his face still wore a false smile. "This one."

Dani climbed out of the car as the blonde woman scampered off.

"You didn't even sit in it," she objected, "or drive it."

"It's not for me," he informed her, "it's for you."

The extravagance embarrassed her, she ducked her head as her face flushed. "Crews…" she began to object.

"You never let me drive anyway," he joked to dispel her unease. Then a finger under her chin raised her eyes to his. "I wanna do something nice for you."

"You bought me a cup of coffee," she joked.

"Nicer," he qualified.

She shook her head slightly, but not enough to break contact with his pointed gaze.

"Sir," the blonde woman interrupted, "the keys," she held a set out to him.

"Give them to her," Charlie made the woman interact with Dani. He hadn't missed her subtle snub and deliberate disregard for his partner. "Where do you need me to sign?"

At this development, the blonde reappraised Dani and must have found her lacking from her look, but she dropped the keys into Dani's waiting hand. The diminutive brunette couldn't help the Cheshire cat grin she was wearing. It was part a factor of the gift and another of the attention Crews lavished on her; while the leggy blonde was clearly throwing herself at him. The other woman clearly felt she had far more to offer than Dani. The surreal quality of the circumstance made her reckless and she reached for Charlie's hand, which surprised and pleased him greatly.

Dani Reese had initiated physical contact with him, again.

"Not that you're my chauffeur, but could you give a stranded guy a lift?" he flirted shamelessly.

The blonde who couldn't believe she was being ignored so overtly, sighed, turned on her heel and left; her heels clipping loudly on the ceramic tile floor.

"I think you burned that bridge," Dani gestured at the retreating woman.

"I don't care," he replied laughing. His eyes never left hers, "I want you to know…"

"I know…" she said softly, stopping his profession of love in the midst of a car dealership. "Come'on," she tugged at his hand. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into," she shamelessly flirted back. They were giddy and unaware.

In the parking lot, slunk low in a unmarked sedan, sat two men who had followed them from the moment they left the station. As the sleek, gun metal grey car exited the parking lot and turned onto the freeway with its throaty growl; they started their engine and followed at a safe distance.

"Boy," one man said to the other, with a long slow whistle, "that's some car. She's really got him hooked around her little finger. Your girl...Dani."

"That's what we're counting on," Jack Reese replied from behind his polarized shades.

"She's still your girl," the man taunted, "right Jack?"

"Just drive," Reese grumbled.


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie enjoyed simply being inside Dani Reese's circle of trust.

He wanted so much more, but prison had also taught him patience.

In the three years since prison, he'd learned how little he knew about a number of things: why he was convicted, how he spent all that time alone, who he really was, what Zen was and how it was practiced. He played at the idea he knew more, but underneath he appreciated how little he really knew and understood. _You don't have to understand here to be here._ It was the first truth he you could learn to just appreciate being here, without understanding; and that was what he was doing at this very moment.

Slunk into the red leather driver's seat with her small tanned hands wrapped around the steering wheel, she smiled. Finally, Dani Reese was happy for no reason.

He said nothing, wanted for nothing. He was the unwobbling center of an ever-revolving universe. He was still; and profoundly happy.

"You're too quiet," she informed him. "What are you thinking?"

And for the first time since she'd met him, Charlie Crews was at a complete loss for words. He opened his mouth, but no words came, so he closed it and shook his head ruefully.

"Did you hit your head? I've never known you not to talk for this long," she ribbed him. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how much like him she sounded…. _never known you not to talk._ "Okay," she shook her head, "obviously I've been spending too much time with you. Listen to me, I sound like you," she chided herself. "Who talks like that?"

"Apparently you," he smiled. Her momentarily inner dialogue so reminiscent of his ramblings had given him the space and time to snap out of the reverie he'd become lost in. "I'm thinking that we need phones," he abruptly changed the subject. "The Russians took mine and yours….was left in a field and got kind of ruined."

"Who am going to call?" she wondered.

"Me," he said plainly, as though it was obvious. "And your mother and pizza delivery."

"You can't possibly be hungry again," she complained.

"Says who?" he joked.

"Okay, well if you see a phone store, let me know," she followed along.

"Let's just get burner phones," he suggested. "There," he pointed, "the bodega. They'll have them."

"Burner phones huh?" she wondered out loud. "Okay." She pulled to the curb and he went inside. He emerged moments later with two decidedly low-tech phones. They were simple enough that even Crews operated them with ease.

He programmed their numbers into each other's phone and then looked up to see where they were. He was surprised to see that they had pulled to the curb outside her apartment.

As she put the car in park, she explained. "I need to sleep in my own bed."

"You could have dropped me first," he objected more on the basis of leaving her than anything else. He'd just got her back and now she was suggesting they separate. He wasn't ready.

"Charlie," she scolded. "It's your car. Take it. Go home. I'll call you tomorrow."

And just like that she was gone _, not even a goodbye kiss,_ he thought. He climbed from the car to move to the driver's seat and noticed her standing there staring at her front door.

"Are you okay?" he called out to her.

She turned to face him. "Shit, I'm locked out."

He grinned. "I can get in there."

"You mean break in," she questioned, confirming his intent, "….to my own apartment." She shook her head ruefully.

"I call it helping," he chuckled. "Breaking in…. has such an ugly ring to it."

He climbed from the car and flicked open his knife grinning.

She stopped him with just a word, his name. "Charlie," she called to him softly.

He turned still holding his knife and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Don't," she cautioned. "Aren't you in enough trouble? I don't need someone calling the police on you. I'll find my super. He'll have the master key."

"What about…." He began and then stopped. He didn't like where his question took them.

She cocked her head to the side and demanded the rest without a word. Just her look, demanded the rest of his thought.

"Tidwell?" he meekly finished.

Her look hardened. "Tidwell does NOT have keys to my place." Then for some reason she did not understand she went further. "My space is mine. I don't bring guys to my home."

It wasn't like her to explain. He recognized this additional information as confidence and trust that was beginning to form between them. It was fragile as a snowflake and he didn't trust it to ask anything beyond what was freely offered.

They stood there looking at each other long enough for it to become uncomfortable before she shook her head. "I guess we're going to your place," she said in a low tone. There was exasperation in her voice, instead of the excitement he wished for.

She shook her head and took at first halting, then stronger steps in his direction.

He couldn't help the part of who he was becoming, the lightness she created around him and the way it empowered him to be reckless with his heart. As she walked toward him intent on taking the keys, he made sure he touched her hand. They both felt the spark and her eyes widened.

"Admit it," he teased, "you just can't stand to be away from me."

"Yes," she replied with a taunt of her own, "that must be it." She rolled her eyes and strode toward the driver's side. He didn't move, so she stopped when she reached the door and beckoned to him. " Crews? You coming?"

"Yeah," he said softly. Part of him was still in shock. Dani Reese was coming home with him. Dani Reese didn't bat an eye at flirting with him. Dani Reese and he were going to be alone in his great big house at night and he hadn't a clue what exactly that meant, but it meant something… something momentous.

* * *

She drove to Crews house and parked in the big circular drive out front. The last time she was in this house, Crews was shot. She remembered it clearly, hearing the shot, seeing him pivot from the open door and a bright red flower blossoming just below his collar bone near his left shoulder. The blank look on his face as he stumbled to him knees and then rolled onto his side on the cold marble floor were unforgettable.

Crews climbed from the car as soon as it stopped, but she didn't move. He leaned down and examined her through the window. Maybe she changed her mind, maybe the flirting was too much and she'd decided not to stay after all. But the look on her face was faraway and melancholy. He rounded the car at the back and carefully opened her door.

"Honey?" he crouched beside her and leaned close. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head vigorously, breaking loose from her introspection. She scowled at him, "don't call me honey."

"Okay….Dani," he leaned back, bracing himself on the door, staying at her level but giving her room. "What's going on? What's bugging you?"

She glanced over at him, appreciating the space he'd created for her and the concerned look on his face. "It's nothing."

"Hey," he touched her elbow, "there can't be nothing. Remember?"

His reminder of an earlier moment made her smile slightly. Again her head shook back and forth in denial, but she realized she owed him the truth. She breathed in deeply, but sat still and silent for a moment before she found the right words.

"It's just the last time I was here…" she began, but stopped short of saying it.

He connected the dots. "I was shot. The last time you were her…. was the day I was shot."

She nodded mutely. The tenseness in her was unmistakable.

Crews nearly died that day. He knew it and she knew it. She'd pressed her hand to his chest and felt his warm, sticky, dark red blood seep through her fingers. In those long moments before the ambulance arrived, she contemplated the idea that her partner might die. When that happened again in Bodner's car just a few days ago and it all came rushing back. She considered Bodner's words, that Crews had no plan, that Roman would kill him and she still hadn't processed how her life would continue without him. He'd become as essential to her as air.

She wouldn't look at him, she hadn't left the car, she was frozen in time.

"Breathe," Charlie coached her cautiously.

Just as in the orange grove, when he'd traded his life for hers, his only concern was for her. He knew her fears; for they were his own. In those long days between finding her badge and gun in the dirt of a field and her haggard appearance on that video with a bloodied lip, he'd aged ten years. In the time it took, to negotiate her release he'd experienced that epiphany that changed the way his world turned. He had to find a way to move them past this moment.

"Do you wanna know who shot me?" he asked.

At that she turned her head and looked at him, "I thought you said you didn't see the guy," her voice was tinged with anger at his lie.

"That wasn't your problem," he explained. "That was my problem."

"No, Crews," she objected. "You are my partner…and that makes your problems, my problems." Her teeth and jaw were set and her words were snapped off like brittle icicles from the edge of a frozen roof. She was angry, but no longer trapped in the past.

"It was Bodner. Bodner shot me." he grinned a bit too brightly. "But after I got better, I shot him back," his tone was cheeky and playful.

"So now you're what? Friends?" she was too surprised to hold onto her anger.

"Come inside with me," he coaxed. "I'll explain it to you."

She let herself be drawn from the car. "You're gonna tell me everything, Crews."

"I don't know everything," he joked.

She pulled away.

"Okay, okay…" he smiled. "I'll tell you everything. I think it's time we both laid all our cards on the table."

She gave him a hard look.

"Deal?" he asked.

"Deal," she agreed.


	11. Chapter 11

Once inside, he asked her upstairs. He didn't want to linger in the larger marble foyer where the shooting happened choosing instead to steer her us the winding marble stair case to his bedroom. Her arched eyebrow let him know she was more than a bit skeptical.

"I'm not trying to get in your pants," he professed.

"Really?" her reply was sardonic.

"Well, not yet," he acquiesced. "This….this is what I want you to see," he pointed to the end of a deep walk in closet where his murder board was pinned to the wall.

The next few hours passed quickly as she listened intently and carefully examined his closet murder board. He held nothing back as he laid out both his theories and her questions. She pulled him back from rabbit holes that led nowhere.

She stared at Rachel's drawing of the man Charlie arrested the year they were first partnered. She read Kyle Hollis' informant file, then held his photo up against Rachel's drawing. Her fingers flittered over the photographs of her father, his official LAPD one and the others – his surveillance photos of her father with Carl Ames.

"So he hid the girl?" she asked.

Charlie nodded mutely.

"Did he kill Ames?" she winced at the words.

Charlie's pursed lips and shaking head told her he didn't know.

"But you think he could have?" she asked pointedly.

"He said he didn't," he offered.

"Do you….did you believe him?" she pursued.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I blame myself for him ghosting on you and your mother. After I pressured him, he vanished."

"Please…." She shook him off sarcastically. "My father ghosted on me when I was twelve."

"Why then?" he inquired with true interest.

"I don't know," she sounded exasperated, so he left it alone and turned to a different topic, but she stopped him. "That's not true," she began. "I do know." Their deal was honesty, so far only Crews had proffered truths. "John," she sighed and folded her arms across her stomach. It was a subconscious protective gesture she couldn't help.

"The year I turned twelve… my brother died," she began slowly. She focused on the carpet and tried to explain what changed all their lives forever. "John was my brother. He was nine years older than me. He was a cop like Dad. He wanted to be just like him; we both did. My dad was a hero back then. He'd just come out of the Bank of Los Angeles shootout without a scratch. We worshiped him. Then fifteen months out of the academy, John was shot and killed in the line. I was twelve."

They both fell silent for a few awkward moments, she looked away and found herself staring at her own photograph on the wall. Her academy headshot, in her dress blues. He fell silent as she wondered without words.

"Dani….I'm so…." He reached out to her with his hand and his voice.

She pushed him away. "Sorry….I know…" she said angrily. "Everyone's sorry, no one more than me. John was…" she couldn't finish.

"You loved him," he said softly.

"More than that….I worshiped him, I adored him," she choked back tears. "My brother was the best kind of cop. He was great at everything he did. Everyone loved him, I wanted to be him."

"What happened?" he asked gently. "How did he die?"

"Shot by perp," she said succinctly. "Stupid little stop and rob in East LA. The guy dropped him as he got out of the car. The bullet hit him just below his vest, in the belly button, severed his abdominal aorta. He was dead before the bus arrived. The gun left on the scene, no prints, no cameras back then, no leads….just dead ends."

"What about his partner?" Charlie asked with the curiosity of a cop.

"He was in the passenger side and never saw the kid's face," sadness covered her like a dark shadow.

Several puzzle pieces fell into place for Crews, other questions sprung to mind. His mind swam with things he knew he could not say. _Was John the victim of the same conspiracy? Rayborne said he'd watched him since the academy. He'd always wondered why. Maybe he wasn't their first choice. Maybe John was their first choice. The son of police royalty – Jack Reese's boy. A little convenient that his killer was never caught._ His brain was in freefall and he reached for the right thing to say, he settled for, "so that's why when Stark talked about the Bank of Los Angeles," he stammered, "you…you reacted so badly."

She wiped away tears. "Did I?"

Charlie nodded mutely.

"He's an asshole, you know?" she mumbled. "Your friend Stark? He's a jerk."

"Yeah?" Charlie questioned knowing she needed the space their idle conversation created. "Yeah, he kinda is. But he owes me…on account of the prison thing."

Conversation failed them both. She bent down and picked up two pieces of an 8" x 10" photo that were torn in half and lying on the floor. She turned them so the jagged edges matched and examined the grainy photograph of her on Mickey Rayborne's boat.

"Guess you have some questions about this huh?" she remarked wryly.

He laid his hands on hers and took the photo. He laid it carefully on the edge of some boxes they had yet to explore. "No," he told her. "I have no questions about you."

With those few words he expressed the sum of his trust, in six little words.

She shook her head quietly, placing her hand gently on his shoulder she mumbled that she knew. And she did. She knew because it was the lesson she learned at the FBI. For better or worse, Charlie Crews was her partner and she trusted him in a way she could not explain. Her heart was full with the knowledge that when could trust no one, he chose to take a risk on her.

When her brain was full of data, her heart of emotion and her mouth questions, he suggested pizza. Grateful for the distraction from the catharsis of learning truths, they took a break. He showed her the house properly, they were examining the pool when the doorbell rang.

Fifty minutes later, there was a pizza box on his dining room table. There were still boxes of files and folders to open and secrets to reveal; but for the moment, they were satiated with both knowledge and pizza. She did not know it all, but she knew a lot more than before. He'd learned something unexpected about Dani and Jack Reese. They'd exchanged both secrets and trusts. Not all, but some - enough.

* * *

It was late, and the crescent of a new moon shone brightly through the windows as he crept through the house turning off lights, shepherding the elephant roaming around the mansion into the shadows. But it just kept getting larger and more obvious. It couldn't hide anymore.

"So…." He drew out the short word longer than he wanted to. "Are you gonna sleep here?"

She rolled her eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief that she was going to stay.

"Are you gonna sleep in Rachel's room?" he pressed.

"What do you think?" she smiled a predatory grin…again flirting with him.

His throat felt dry, "I'm gonna wanna kiss you," his voice was low and alluring. "If you sleep with me, in my bed…I'm gonna wanna kiss you."

"What's stopping you?" she taunted dragging her hand across his chest.

Suddenly she was stilled by his firm hands on her hips. "Nothing," he stepped in and slanted his lips across hers and kissed her hard and fierce and hard. "Nothing's stopping me." It was the kind of kiss he knew she liked because while Dani's reputation was something he chose not to pay attention to, he couldn't ignore it entirely.

"Thought there couldn't be nothing," she teased.

He pushed her against the wall and kissed her again roughly. "Does that feel like nothing?" he rumbled against her throat.

"No," she purred and ran her hand up his leg brushing against him. He was obviously aroused, "definitely not nothing."

"Come upstairs with me," he demanded.

He took her by the hand and led her to his bedroom. The lights were on from their fact-finding mission, but he switched them off, plunging them into relative darkness. A narrow sliver of light shone across the floor from the closet and in it Dani Reese stood, backlit, beginning to disrobe. She slid out of her sneakers, unbuttoned, unzipped and shimmied out of her jeans and as she was undoing the buttons on her shirt she felt his hands on hers.

"Let me do it," his voice was low rumble.

She let go. She gave him control for just a moment before she began to untuck his shirt and undo the buttons on his jeans. "Take these off," she demanded. Pushy as always. He pushed her hands away and pulled his shirt off over his head. Then he bent down and ran his hands up her legs to her waist, pulled her close, kissed her hard. They were still tangled together as he walked her to the bed and laid her down.

"Not nothing," he whispered against her throat. He could feel her pulse racing and feel her breathlessness. She shook her head slightly and smiled. The moonlight through the window made her look gilded in silver. "What I've got for you…what I feel for you….it's not nothing?"

"I know, Charlie," she replied, laughter in her tone.

He dove for her throat hungrily, lavishing kisses there, while his hands lifted her off the bed crushing her to his chest. She moaned and arched her back. He redoubled his efforts to make her moan and writhe and was rewarded with a little yelp. He left her throat and kissed her languorously only letting go when he could no longer breath. Her laughter was gone, instead he saw raw want in her eyes. Want of him.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded. The iron in his voice turned her on.

"You know what I want," she played coy putting her hand on his fly again with the intent on removing his pants.

"Uh-uh," he captured her hands and pinned them over her head. "Tell me."

She loved powerful men. If she went into a bar to pick up a partner, she could find the most powerful man in the room blindfolded in the dark. How she'd never picked up on that trait in Crews puzzled her.

"Tell me," he commanded.

Her body told him before her mouth gave him the words, but she chose him and she chose to let him lead. It was an important step for them together. Partners, yes. But work partners; different life. Play partners; he needed to lead. She needed him to be in charge and to be okay with him doing so. She needed a man she could trust to take care of her; although Dani Reese was perfectly capable of caring for herself. She toyed with the idea of refusing him. But she knew he would withhold his attention until she capitulated. They were vying for control in the bedroom and it was her choice to give him the reins. In the end, she found the choice very easy to make. It hinged on trust and he had hers completely.

"I want you," she told him plainly. "Charlie, I want you."


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: Written because...I just can't let it go._

She woke in the night, tread lightly to his bathroom and felt for the light switch. The mirror opposite her made her jump when the light came on. She was naked, hair a wild mess and there were bluish hickeys on her neck - emblems of Crews' affection. She smiled at her appearance. He hadn't hurt her, but he'd used her in the way she liked. She'd given as good as she got. The morning sun would reveal red welts and nail marks on his pale skin where she raked his back in her fervor; and fingertip bruising where she'd grabbed him too tightly.

She returned to their bed to find him restless and his legs sliding around in the sheets. "Go back to sleep," she told him as she slid in beside him.

"It's not gonna all be sunshine, roses and fast cars," he cautioned her.

"No," she laughed. "I expect not. I expect a few knife fights, scars and dark nights of the soul."

"The world is not all light, at least half of it is in dark at all times," he replied yawning.

"You left hickeys on my neck," she mocked protest.

"I think my back is bleeding," he shot back.

"Best sex I've had in years," she laughed. And finally, after three long years, she finally heard the rich sound of Charlie Crews' laughter as he replied, "me too." They giggled as he pulled her close.

* * *

Outside in a dark car, a man with the teeth marks of time tearing at his soul fumed.

It wasn't that Dani didn't have trysts with the wrong guys, lots of the wrong guys. She'd blazed a path through the Department and left broken hearts in her wake. The only boy she'd really cared about might have been the drugged-up kid they found her with when she was finally and mercifully pulled out of undercover before it killed her – just before.

Each time he tried to walk away, they would make certain that he knew that he could never escape. Dani's undercover debacle with just the latest in their lesson to him that no one left their group. But his first lesson had been John, his only son.

When Jack had the temerity to walk away, right after John graduated the Academy, they'd warned him. But Jack Reese was stubborn; no one threatened him. He was mighty and terrible. He was LAPD royalty, the commander of the SWAT Team and a Captain in the safety of the serge army. He was invincible, right up to the point he opened the door and the LAPD Chaplain stood on his doorstep. He'd learned then. They had found the chink in his armor. His perfect boy, a bright light in the darkness, lying in a pool of his own blood outside some dingy bodega in the barrio dead. Stone cold dead from a crime that would never be solved, because it wasn't random – it was a lesson in what they can take from you.

His broken heart sought the solace of a liquor bottle first. Gin, then scotch became his mistress. Karen Davis covered for him. She was first to tell him the stink of gin was too obvious at work. But he didn't stop, he just changed ladies. Scotch bit him back, each shot like a punch in the throat, but it was easier to hide at work. He didn't bother to hide from his wife who was in her own special hell. But she still had Dani and the girl needed her mother. She could ill afford to wallow in grief as he did. She did not own the guilty knowledge that John's death was just a lesson for him – a lesson in control and shame.

His pain became anger, then rage and hatred. The light in his soul had gone out. Not even his tough and determined twelve-year-old daughter could bring him joy anymore. It hurt too much to care. He was there – but he was not there. His life became a shadow of its former self, as though the happy family photos were from a movie about someone else's life. Dani drifted away. She found her own refuge in angry rebellion. Their biggest fight was over her determination to join the Department, following not in his footsteps, but those of her hero – her brother, John. He absolutely forbid it, unwilling to lose two children to that corrupt system, but Dani….she went anyway. Because as talented as John was, Dani had inherited all the grit and determination in the family. She was a fiercely independent and stubborn young woman and as her star rose at the Academy, Jack's fear and loathing grew.

The moment he got out of step with the cabal of corrupt cops, they let him know he still had people he could lose. He carried Dani out of that crack house in his arms. She was still that small, light and frail now. She stunk of drugs and sweat. She was mercifully so out of it that she didn't mourn the dead boy, not yet. He bundled her in the car and took her straight to rehab. But he stayed away from her, feigning disgust and disdain, when all he really felt was guilt. His choice, his hubris, his ego had cost him one child; he wasn't going to let it take them both. He towed their line and did their dirty deeds until he could take his pension. But even then, he didn't walk away clean; even then, they owned him.

He'd followed them all day; his dark-haired daughter and her ginger protector. He watched as the untouchable, disconnected Charlie Crews fawned over his stubborn daughter. He watched as his tough little girl, let him. They were partnered together for control, but they could not be controlled. He was odd and twitchy. She was reckless and unpredictable. Together they were simultaneously uncontrollable and vulnerable.

The part of him that admired Charlie Crews' tenacity also knew the young man's stubbornness would get him killed. It was why - when Charlie threatened to expose him and tear what remained of his pitiful life to shreds, he simply left. Walked away from a devoted wife, a sullen daughter who was more in Crews' camp day by day and small, but warm home in the suburbs.

But they found him, they always found him.

So he sat in a dark car, watching the lights go out in succession, in a great empty mansion, on a high hill, until Charlie Crew pinned his daughter, against the wall, in a marble hallway and kissed her breathless. He couldn't bear to watch because he knew what came next….


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie Crews was rested, happy and only a little bit beat up (and a lot of that involved tussling with his favorite brunette, who was quite the wildcat in bed). The nail marks she left in his back were pleasantly painful and reminder of their first, but not last night together. _She was so worth the wait,_ he marveled at her.

He prodded his bedmate and whispered, "breakfast?"

She growled in reply and burrowed deeper into the covers.

"I'm going for a run," he announced a bit louder than necessary and fairly sprang from his bed. He heard a dull "uh-huh" in response as he rose, dressed and laced up his sneakers.

The sun was blazing high in the sky, but his soul vibrated with nervous energy. He needed to burn some of that energy off or Dani would bolt. She'd take one look at the dopey grin on his face and head for the hills – and her trip wouldn't be in running shorts. She's be gone _faster than you can say lickety split_ – as his mother used to say.

So he ran… He ran down the street he lived on, into the maze of asphalt in the high end housing below his house on the hill. There were McMansions by the hundreds, all the same. Grey or tan boxes with manicured lawns, BMWs in every driveway and the same mailbox at the end of each drive. A prison made of grey boxes and green yards. Maybe he should have bought further out of town, he thought. Too many ugly boxes, too much stuff, too many people. He turned and ran back up the hill. Into the high canyons, with sheer dirt cliffs to his left and right. There were coyotes and snakes up here, but they seemed less dangerous somehow. Plus he was alone now and the sound of kids playing, lawn mowers and hedge trimmers fell away. Now the only noise was his breath and the shuffle of his sneakers on the pavement. He was sweating heavily and wished he'd brought a water bottle, but it wasn't a terrible thirst so he pushed on.

He heard a car approaching from behind and moved to the side. The car came closer, much closer than needed. He glanced behind in annoyance and that was when he saw the silver Cadillac and the white hair of the man driving. He stepped across the curb onto the dirt to escape the bumper nudging his hip.

The dirt ledge gave way and his ankle rolled sending him careening down a 200-foot expanse of loose dirt and tumbleweed. The trip became an unending fall of choking dust and dirt; and of elbows and shins scraping against thorny bushes and rocky outcroppings, as he tumbled down the hill. He couldn't speak because he fell over a large rock and it knocked the wind from him. The last thought that went through his head just before his eyebrow struck a rock and knocked him cold was that he should tell Dani her father wasn't dead.

* * *

"Jack," the silky-smooth voice purred. "Have you found him?"

Jack Reese's phone rang so quickly after he nudged Charlie Crews' hip sending him spiraling down the rocky ravine in a cloud of dust; it made Reese think his car had a camera in it. _Not possible,_ he shook off his paranoia. When he'd chosen to vanish, the car was the only thing he took. He'd practically lived in it. It was his one attachment to the past. He loved that car, but she would be his undoing. It was how they found him and it was how Roman found him.

For in the week after Roman Nevikov took Dani Reese from the FBI for the crime of refusing to betray her partner; Roman's first message was not to Charlie Crews. His first message was to Jack Reese. He tried without success to ransom her first to her father.

"Jack," the voice sounded angry. "Pay attention."

"I'm here," he said dully. He wasn't really there. Not in the sense Charlie Crews would understand. He was somewhere else. He was sleeping in his bed, in his home with his wife, surrounded by the life he'd made before Crews' threat made him flee. But he didn't flee Crews, he fled the truth that Crews' unmasking him would reveal.

"I found him," Jack replied.

"Do you have him?"

"No," he spoke truths in short snippets, "but I know where he's going to be."

The cloud of dust down the hill began to clear. Charlie Crews lay in a heap on the black stretch of road at the bottom of the tight switchback he'd traversed on this knees and elbows.

Jack disconnected the line, dialed *67 to mask his number, and then dialed 9-1-1. "There's a man, lying in the middle of the road, on Sunset Hills Drive, up high, above the houses. I think he's unconscious...or dead."

He disconnected in the four seconds it took him to speak enough truth to bring emergency responders; not enough time for dispatch to locate him or his number, but just for good measure he'd dump the phone and get a new one. But not the car…..the car he'd keep.

* * *

Dani was up, but still not fully awake. Instead she wandered around in Crews' giant kitchen in search of coffee when the pounding on the door started. It wasn't a "I've locked myself out" kind of pounding and therefore not Crews, she deduced. She padded to the door and opened it a crack, to find a nervous and pacing Kevin Tidwell on Crews' front porch.

She closed the door and leaned against it. After a wonderful morning of sleep and some mind-blowing sex, she was really not up for a fight with her ex. He pounded on the door again.

"Go away," she shouted angrily.

"Dani," he plead through the door, "it's Crews." Something edging on panic was in his voice, and it compelled her to open the door.

He stood there looking at her bare legs, sticking out from under the long blue dress shirt belonging to her partner. When his eyes rose to her eyes, she was not happy at the luxury of his gaze. Her arms crossed, and her brows kitted tightly.

Tidwell swallowed hard and remembered why he was there. "Crews," he stammered, "he…he's in the hospital."

"What?" she asked shocked. 'What happened?"

Tidwell shrugged. "He was out cold when they brought him in. Found in the street, beat up or maybe he fell? One of the nurses recognized him from the news. She called the precinct."

"Station," she corrected annoyed. "Which hospital?" she asked turning her back and ascending the stairs. She needed to get there, to be there with him.

"Just what the hell are you two doing?" Tidwell stood in the doorway.

She stopped and looked at him. _Was he asking about the two of them together or what had happened to Crews and what she know about it?_ She couldn't tell, but what was more… she couldn't trust why he was asking. _Was it for himself or someone else?_

She turned without answering, disappearing from his line of sight to dress. He remained and when she reappeared in jeans and a black tank top with keys in hand, she demanded, "which hospital?" again.

"Uh….Cedars," he said dully. She still looked hot in her pony tail and form hugging tank top. There were bluish hickeys on her neck and throat and he knew that Crews put them there. It made him unreasonably angry, jealously tinged his view an ugly green.

"I'd offer you a ride, but it looks like your boy toy has money to burn," he caustically commented. That was when she slapped him.

"I don't know where the fuck you get off," her retort was sharp. "He means more to me than you ever did, but if it makes you feel better…just keep thinking I'm into him for his money."

She walked away, climbed into the Maserati, which roared to life with a loud growl and left smoke in her wake as the tires shredded on the pavement from the speed of her departure.

"Fuck!" Tidwell shouted at the sky in frustration. He trudged to his unmarked and followed at a reasonable speed. He knew bad things would follow those two wherever they went. Somehow it had become his job to clean up behind them.

* * *

She marched down the shiny linoleum hallway, the heels of her boots striking the tile sharply. "Crews," she demanded.

The nurses' station was pristine, and it was the lunch hour in the middle of the week. Not a busy time for a usually busy hospital. The nurse took her time and reviewed a clipboard with her finger….slowly. The lone nurse was in her mid-fifties, a heavy-set black woman with stern eyes and was not easily intimidated.

Again Dani said only his name, "Crews." The demand was not lost on the woman, but she was unperturbed and did not answer.

Dani's anger rose to the surface again, like a whale breaching the surface – suddenly, immediately and impressive. It left awe in its wake – normally. "You can't miss him," Dani's tone was acerbic, "he's tall, pale, lean, red hair, freckles, body full of scars and he has a goofy grin."

The last comment was telling. It spoke to affection – not simply a descriptor. The man meant something to the angry girl. The nurse looked up at Dani, retrieved a pair of reading glasses and in a measured tone questioned, "and you are?"

"His partner," she eased.

He was something more to her, but that descriptor still fit them.

"Come with me," the woman led her to a curtained area where a doctor who looked about twelve years old stood with his own clipboard asking the usual questions.

"Are you safe at home?" The doctor asked.

Charlie laughed, "yeah, what have you heard?"

"I ask," the doctor said shyly, "because you have scratch marks down your back, under your shirt. Those didn't come from the fall."

Crews simply stared the young man into silence.

Dani and the nurse interrupted the staring match and the young doctor struggled for the appearance of control.

"How many fingers?" he asked.

Charlie matched the number the boy wonder held up.

"Who's the President?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Don't you mean the Messiah."

Then the boy doctor's eyes flickered over at Dani, "who's this?"

"My partner," there was pleasure and warmth in Charlie's voice as he said the words. He smiled as far as his split lip would let him. "And she's angry," he warned.

"What the hell happened?" she began questioning him.

The young doctor sensing he was losing control of the room reminded her of his position, "I'll ask the questions, Miss."

Dani's eyes shot him daggers, but she fell silent.

"What do you recall about how you were injured?" the doctor continued his examination.

"I was running, I fell," Crews eyes were steely.

He was lying, she realized immediately. She knew that about him now. Blue eyes connected to brown and the realization that she knew dawned on him. Perturbed his ability to hide from her was vanishing, Crews looked away, focusing instead on Doogie Howser, M.D.

"Your MRI shows a mild concussion, but you've had great deal of repetitive head trauma," the doctor flipped the page, "from…."

"Prison," they answered in unison.

Now it was the doctor's turn to fall silent. He may have even paled, then he changed the subject fast enough to break your neck if you weren't paying attention.

Both partners exchanged a knowing look and a wisp of a smile crossed Dani's face.

"I'm gonna discharge you," the doctor said, "into the care of your wife…. with instructions that you rest and follow-up with another scan in a few days to look for slow bleeds. I can give you something for the pain, but no narcotics," he offered.

"You'll watch him closely?" the sandy haired boy doctor confirmed.

"Like a hawk," she confirmed with a tight false smile.

"I'll get your paperwork finished," he smiled at the pretty brunette, but she had no smiles for him. All her attention was focused like a laser on the tall red head, with the split lip, scuffed shins and forearms, an elbow, knee and eyebrow he'd just stitched up. From the look on the woman's face, the redhead's troubles were just beginning. The doctor's eyes widened in a moment of social fear and then he was gone.

She looked back at Crews and found him with an ear to ear grin, split lip and all.

"I fail to see what's do fucking funny about this," she studied her nails in a display of indifference to hide how badly she wanted to touch him.

"He said you were my wife," he explained his mirth.

"People do that all the time," she countered snarkily, "assume we are a couple."

"Only now...we are a couple," he teased. Her dark glare bounced off his sunny smile. "He said you were my wife," he flirted with disaster, "and you didn't correct him."

"Shut up," she took an involuntary step towards him.

Then Charlie Crews unfolded his crossed arms and extended his hand. He held his breath for a heartbeat, until she took his hand. He pulled her to him, rising from his reclining position and wrapping both arms around her. The IV in his arm dragged the stand across the floor, screeching on against the tile and threatening to topple it. But nothing on the planet could make him let go of her.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's note: Posted cause I can't stand logging in and seeing non LIFE stories on our page. Cheesy little snapshot, more later._

"I need to tell you something," he whispered into her hair. She smelled of an unnamable spice, not cinnamon, not cardamom, not anise, but something tickled his nose. She was all those and more. She was coffee and chocolate and exotic fruits he had yet to discover. He inhaled again concentrating on the pheromones and a scent that was uniquely here.

"Is it about Zen?" she replied against his chest.

"No," he laughed. "I'm serious."

"You're never serious," she argued.

He pulled back from her and looked into her eyes. "Your father is alive."

Her eyes were a mixture of anger, relief, suspicion and curiosity. "You're sure?"

Charlie nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

"How are you sure?" her tone held a tenseness that made him know she had intimated the answer and was looking for confirmation. Now was when he proved there were no more secrets between them.

"I didn't fall," he admitted. "Well….I sort of did fall, but only after I got pushed by the bumper of a silver Cadillac... driven by your father."

Her eyes widened slightly and he noticed an uptake in her pulse as his hand travelled to her wrist. He was mildly concerned that she might recoil from the news and him both. He was wrong, dead wrong. A moment later, she buried her head in his chest and gripped him tightly.

For a few moments, neither trusted themselves to speak. Then the twelve-year-old doctor reappeared and cleared his throat. Charlie looked up but made no effort to extricate himself from the embrace of his partner.

"She really is your girl," the young man blurted out. Obviously, he was surprised that the battered and scarred older man had such an attractive young partner. He smelled a lie, but his eyes told him the truth. His ability to filter his thoughts was like unto Charlie's – weak.

"For as long as she'll have me," Charlie promised her.

"Can we go home now?" Dani asked quietly from the shelter of Crews' arms.

"Technically," the boy doctor began, "being discharged requires we wheel him out in a chair." However, the look Crews gave convinced the man that a wheelchair was both unwelcomed and unnecessary. "But I think we can make an exception," he offered.

The pretty girl smiled at him from under dark lashes. She was quite striking even plainly dressed and held in the arms of another. The doctor stared a moment too long and when his gaze returned to Crews, the blue-eyed man's gaze was cold and hard coupled with a spooky smile. It spoke of possession and an unspoken challenge.

"I just need to remove your IV," he said cautiously approaching and motioning to Crews forearm where the IV was anchored. Charlie's feral grin eased, but he remained tense and watchful.

Dani withdrew and watched as the young man expertly removed the line, stemmed blood from flowing down Crews' forearm and wrist and then taped the opening tightly to prevent seepage. He was young, but very capable.

The show concluded with the doctor's attention on Charlie, Dani's attention on the doctor and Crews' on his partner. No one noticed Kevin Tidwell enter the area.

"Does someone want to tell me what happened?" Tidwell broke the eerily silence in the exam area.

"I fell," Crews replied, as both the doctor and Dani said "he fell" in unison.

Tidwell smelled cover up. "So we're gonna do that song and dance?" he alluded to his awareness that he was being lied to, "again?" His cynicism met silence. "I'm not sure how I got to be the bad guy here," he argued against a mute conclave. "Whatever," he sighed helplessly. "As long as you're okay," he locked eyes with Crews. "You're still both my detectives," he explained.

Crews' head tilted oddly. "Am I still a detective?" he wondered.

"Yeah, dude," Tidwell confirmed. "You too," he looked at Dani.

"I would have thought..." Crews began to say something ill-advised about Roman and the burned-out car. Dani stopped him with a look. "Well, isn't that's something…." he covered quickly.

"All you did was save her," Tidwell gushed. "The brass is pissed cause you broke a few rules, but you've got a lot of friends. Stark, Seever, Bodner, me….we all explained that you had to act fast and didn't have time to bureaucracy and politics. They want you, but they don't have enough to get you," his eyes searched for a face who believed him.

The doctor was now confused. "I thought you said you were in prison," he questioned dully. Charlie grinned a silly smile at the man's confusion.

"But he's a cop," the doctor looked at the badge on Tidwell's belt. "Are you a cop?"

Charlie puzzled over that. "Am I a cop?"

"I just asked that," the doctor said, "you heard me ask that right?" he spoke to the room at large.

Both Reese and Tidwell rolled their eyes knowing that the first experience of Crewsisms was confusing.

"He does that," both Tidwell and Reese answered in unison.

Charlie didn't like the symmetry of their response but was helpless against the bond there. He'd helped create it, their bond, their relationship. He'd built the tiny fire under Tidwell's attraction to Reese, helped it along, giving Tidwell tips and encouraging Reese to explore a healthy relationship. Now he wondered if all along it had been to push her away from him; if all along he'd known that he loved her and if all along he'd feared what the two of them together could be.

He was still in his head replaying all the times he'd thought about them together and how it bothered him. He considered that he'd become cool and disconnected from Tidwell, who had done nothing more than have to courage to pursue what he wanted, who he wanted, and, in that moment, Charlie Crews felt a bit of a coward.

"Crews," Dani called to him and from her tone and her look, he knew that she'd spoken his name more than once.

"I'm here," he confirmed.

"Are you?" she questioned with her eyes.

He nodded solemnly and then did something very unexpected. "Captain, I think I know how to find Jack Reese."

Dani glared at him. "He tried to run me over with a car, a silver Cadillac, that's probably registered to him. He probably disappeared about the same time or a little before Mickey Rayborn pulled his vanishing act. I need your help to find him."

Tidwell was flummoxed, and it showed. He ran his hand through his mop of brown unruly hair and wring his neck. "My help as a cop? My help as your Captain? Or…?"

"Your help as our friend," Dani followed her partner's lead. Her eyes connected with Crews'. It wasn't like there were not going to be words after, a tense discussion, a reckoning, but for now she placed her trust and faith in Crews and blindly followed where he led.

"Are we still friends?" Tidwell asked Dani.

Dani Reese surprised everyone in the room, by replying simply, "yes."

Tidwell registered both shock and gladness in a weird way. Charlie just beamed.

"Don't think you having a head injury is gonna get you out of the dog house with me," her tone was low and dangerous. "You owe me a lot more of an explanation," she warned.

"You'll have it," he promised. "Just get me home and all will be revealed," his winsome soft smile was her undoing. Mind blowing sex aside, she found herself having true affection for the tall redhead.

Her smile in return was all he desired; and she gave it willingly.


	15. Chapter 15

She took them home in the sleek grey car with horses under the hood. Thunder shook the sky rumbled in anticipation of its own release. It was an eerie grey green color and reminded Dani of the Wizard of Oz. Dust devils swirled in the street stirred by uneasy winds and spirits. A coyote paced the car on the side of the road. It looked at Crews; looked through him.

"Are you okay?" Dani asked with her hand on his arm.

Crews looked at Dani and back at the coyote. The coyote laughed and ran away.

"Crews?" she asked again, "are you okay?"

"Did you see…." He began, then realized the lunacy of what he saw. He had just been struck on the head – a couple of times. "I'm just…." he stammered, "I'm fine, I'll be fine. It's okay. I'll be okay."

Dani said nothing in response but watched him struggle. The unease he felt was all around them. She watched him shudder and try to shake it off. "Right," she pushed the gas pedal harder. "You are going straight to bed, after a hot shower and a good meal," she vowed.

Crews nodded mutely and looked out the window like he was searching for something. Then he spoke quietly, but didn't look at her, "I think I knew your brother. Well, not knew him – knew him, but met him, spoke to him. I didn't know he was yours, your brother…but I met him. I thought I wanted to be a cop, I spoke to a rookie police officer. He was graduating at the top of his Academy class and we talked to me for about two hours. A year later, I joined up and while I was in the Academy, he was killed. Our whole class attended his funeral. I saw you….you were sitting there with your mom. You wore a blue dress and I remember thinking you would grow up and break a million hearts."

Dani said nothing, but he no longer needed words from his reticent partner to know her mood and her mind. Her brow furrowed, she bit her lip and the shine left in wake of silent tears marked a line down her cheek collecting on her tense jaw. She wiped at them with back of her hand.

"What you saw out the window made you remember all that?" she asked acerbically.

"I saw a coyote," he tried the truth because…. _why the hell not?_

"Like Wiley Coyote?" she joked darkly.

He almost laughed, but this wasn't a "haha" funny moment. Dani used dark humor to distance things that truly bothered her.

"I remembered it while I was running," he divulged. "I didn't make the connection until the other night when you told me about your brother. Something clicked then, but it took time for the memories to make sense to me.

"You'd have had better luck if you told me you saw flying monkeys," she again made light of her pain.

Her sideways glanced found her partner's expression neutral; his lips in a tight line matching the line of dried blood travelled from the stitches above his eye down toward his temple. A scraped cheek and bruise the color of a burgundy wine marred his freckled face.

His hand reached for hers, slowly, gently, but with genuine purpose. He peeled her left hand off the steering wheel interlacing his fingers with hers. He said nothing, but the gesture bought her time to process the information he'd shared with her.

"I wouldn't have believed you," she commented looking away; recalling that terrible day with a sea of men in navy blue and a squad of riflemen, "except that I did wear a blue dress to his funeral."

She wasn't ready. Her attempt at humor was designed to build distance. He knew that about her know and it made him feel special to have noticed. Nothing further was spoken between them as she made her way home in the sleek car. They stopped once for coffee; he drank tea instead. They couldn't decide on what to eat, so they deferred til home where they ordered a pizza, which they also could not decide on.

"Pineapple does not belong on pizza," she objected. "No fruit does."

"Did you know that tomato is a fruit?" he argued, "and tomato sauce is the basis of all pizza?"

"Not all pizza, not white pizza," she argued halfheartedly.

"White pizza isn't pizza," he groused in a rare moment of darkness. "It's cheesy bread."

"Fine," she sighed heavily relenting, "half Hawaiian" she told the disembodied voice on the phone. Under her breath she directed the rest of her commentary at her partner "…your half….I don't want fruit on mine." It was mock injustice with no real anger behind it.

He flopped onto the couch beside her heavily and immediately regretted such a dramatic gesture. His head throbbed like a bass drum. She rose without comment and returned with a glass of cold water and two aspirin. He took them gratefully and they waited in companionable silence.

Dani recognized that at her home the television would be droning on in the background, but here is was quiet. Silence used to frighten her, but she found it comforting with Crews by her side.

While eating their pizza and wiping his hands on his pants, he took up the thread of their earlier conversation. "I can't believe I didn't connect the dots until now," he said dully. "You were a beautiful…you are a beautiful woman. Normally I don't forget that kind of beauty."

She handed him a napkin with disdain on her face. "I was a child, Crews," she blushed furiously at his notice of her attractiveness, a feature she hid often beneath shapeless clothes and a pony tail. "I actually makes me feel good that you didn't consider a young girl….that way."

She finally asked him in a small quiet voice, "what did John say to you?"

"I don't remember the words," he gave her the truth. It was a truth she knew, but one she would appreciate hearing. "What struck me most was how passionate he was about policing, about helping people. You could tell he felt called to it, like people feel called to the ministry. I knew when we finished talking, that I wanted to love my job in that way. I wanted to live with that kind of purpose."

Dani was smiling. It was the man she loved, remembering her brother fondly….her brother whom she worshipped.

"Do you remember that first case when you asked me why I became a cop again?"

She nodded.

"I remember thinking all that time I was in prison that a cop was who, was what I was. That's what I held onto," he reminded her.

"I remember telling you that I thought that was a bunch of bullshit," she smirked.

"I think it was your brother who inspired that belief in me," he spoke an absolute truth. "He may have saved my life."

"Everything really is connected," she murmured.

"Yeah," he agreed softly and pulled her against him, holding her by his side.

It was another truth they were still learning.

They fell asleep on the couch like that. Nestled in each other's embrace and so Dani Reese spent another night sleeping with Charlie Crews. She remembered as she drifted in and out of sleep that she ought to go home, but she couldn't bring herself to move from his side.


End file.
